Little Pieces of Heaven
by Night-Mare-Chan
Summary: A collection of One Piece drabbles. Luffy dreams of what he's lost. Usopp remembers his birthday. Coby and Helmeppo hang by a thread, plus more.
1. What Dreams May Come

This is just a compilation of dabbles (sort of) that I wrote for the LJ challenge community One Piece 300. As such, it will be updated after I write a drabble and the week's competition is over. I can't promise how many there will be in the end. Though I have some backlogged so I will post those probably one a day. (tho I only have like, five or six.) Anyhow these are only sort of drabbles as a drabble is apparently defined as 100 words and given the nature of OP300 is to write 300 words it kind of breaks the tradition. Also some, like this first one, are quite a bit longer than 300. So- anyway I hope you enjoy!

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**What Dreams May Come**

He is dreaming. This is not unusual. He often dreams, usually of color and noise and laughter-the rush of wind in his hair and adventure in his heart. Sometimes he can see his nakama, sometimes he can't. Other dreams are dark and heavy, filled with a choking presence. He never sees his nakama in these, but he knows they're there (if only beyond the smoky edges of his consciousness) so he doesn't worry.

This dream is different from the others. He is surrounded by blue. Below him he can see old coral beds and lazy fish. The sunlight shines through the water in loops and whorls, curving across coral and fish alike. Above him the water sparkles with sunlight and he is in between but he is not drowning. His legs remember, somehow what to do and he kicks forward, rowing with his arms in a smooth ocean, swimming as sleek as a dolphin. The water pushes in his face and tangles in his hair, as loving as the wind but not as rough. He starts turning as he swims, like an otter, he thinks, twisting and looping and chasing fish with cupped hands. He can't breathe but he doesn't need to and this is what reminds him is a dream. Rather, memory...

His body can't do this now. It's forgotten how, he thinks, or the belly of the sea has forgotten him. He can flail and twist and stretch but the sea still drags him down, angry, possessive, punching into his gut so that he can't breathe. It's sad. Like an old friend who becomes mad at you for no reason you can remember.

He holds on to the dream as long as he can, exploring and diving deeper into the blue-black-hungry for something that even Sanji can't prepare.

"Oi, Luffy..." Usopp says. Luffy looks up and sees he is actually a puffer fish, all spikes with Usopp's head and long nose. He laughs because it's hilarious, clutching his belly and rolling over in the water. Can he make his body blow up like that? Puffer-Usopp looks annoyed and starts rolling him back and forth with his fins. "Luffy," he says again. "Wake up."

Just like that he's tricked. Luffy blinks in the darkness. He hears the creaking of the ship and the sound of Zoro snoring nearby. Usopp is still there, unfished. Luffy can't see well enough in the dark to tell whether or not this annoys him.

"It's your turn on watch," Usopp says. Luffy yawns and sits up, stretching his arms over his head. Then looks at Usopp who is watching him. Luffy thinks he can see a question in the line of Usopp's shoulders but Usopp never asks and starts to turn away.

"Na, Usopp. Can you swim?" he asks.

"Yeah," Usopp says, sounding uncertain; then with more confidence: "I once swam two hundred miles in a day!"

"Su_gei_, two hundred miles?" Luffy says, leaning forward. He can't even imagine swimming that distance. He has no doubts Usopp could do something like that, though. Probably in being chased by something.

"Yep!" Usopp puts his fists on his hips proudly. "That was the day I saved my village from fifty huge mutant crabs!"

"Really?" Chopper asks, voice quiet and sleep-filled like grass whispering in the wind.

"No," Zoro says, but whether he's asleep or awake, Luffy can't tell. He's funny like that.

"Well, really there were only forty," Usopp says.

"Stop lying so loudly," Sanji mutters. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Luffy grins to himself because he can hear their voices, because they are familiar to him, more familiar than the sea has ever been. Usopp mutters a protest that sounds weak because Luffy knows that in his mind, Usopp never really lies. Luffy slips off of his hammock and climbs out of the cabin and then shoots himself up to the crow's nest, the wind pummeling his face like it always does out of fierce joy.

Then he lands, the wood cold under his bare feet. He wiggles his toes and sees the ocean stretch around them on all sides, glinting with starlight and a soft shiver of moon. The sea doesn't like him anymore, but that's alright. Luffy rests his chin on his fists, listening to the creaking of the ship. As his nakama sleep, Luffy looks to the horizon and dreams...


	2. Birthday

Yes, yes, this is also a little longer than 300 words. XD; The rest are 300 though. So there. :p

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Birthday

Usopp lay on his back on the deck, his hands behind his head. The sky was a round dark blue dome, tinged with red. Some stars had already punched through to cast white beady eyes on them. Somewhere, Zoro was doing his after dinner training, clanking away with weights that Usopp could lift if he really wanted to. Sanji was standing just outside of the galley, wiping his hands on a dish towel, a cigarette clamped between his lips as usual. Nami was humming softly to herself among her mikan trees and Robin, close by, shifted into the brighter light, keeping her book propped open with an extra hand. Luffy lay beside him, belly distended from a big meal—including parts of everyone else's—and was snoring like a satiated bear. Usopp grinned at the mental image and tucked it away in the back of his mind for later.

"Today's my birthday," he told Chopper who was sitting beside him, chin in hooves and gazing out over the water.

"Oh?" said Chopper, sounding mild. Usopp didn't blame him. He'd been saying it was his birthday for a few days now and would continue saying it for a few days more, just to throw them off-guard. Today really was his birthday as it happened but he liked to keep it tucked away just under his breastbone, like a deep dark secret. Traditionally, all heroes had their deep dark secrets. Usopp's had never been really deep or dark and a birthday was certainly skimming the shallow waters of that one—but still he liked to hide it as something just his own.

"What do you want for your birthday today?" Chopper asked after the silence had built long enough. The reindeer didn't tear his gaze from the sea but one long ear curved in his direction told he was listening. Usopp felt the thrill of attention and rubbed at his chin in thought. He knew he could put sparkles in Chopper's eyes with just the right amount of cool and if he did it well enough Chopper might even believe him. He'd already wished for a fleet of 8,000 ships (which had made Luffy excited), a harem of beautiful women (which had gotten Sanji's attention and Usopp had spent the rest of the day answering/fending off questions about the various attributes of the women, though not when any actual women were in earshot, of course.) and a house twice as big as his village (then Luffy asked why he wanted a house when he could have such an awesome ship and Usopp had to concede the point) As he thought he felt the roll of the ship and the various sounds of his nakama.

"Nothing," he said. Chopper blinked, looking at him, seeming worried. Usopp almost expected to feel a cool hoof against his forehead.

"Nothing?" Chopper echoed.

"Things are just perfect as they are." It sounded foolish and childish and sentimental and Usopp closed his eyes trying to affect a sort of manly distance and not really meaning it sort of stance. Embellishments danced on the tip of his tongue. Perfect because I'm really the strongest pirate in the world, perfect because the last birthday I had to fight off an army of rabid dogs armed with nothing but a wet tissue.

"I think so, too," Chopper said. And Usopp smiled and let it alone.


	3. Over the Edge

Why, look! An OP_300 challenge piece that is actually 300 words! (well I think it was 200something but, details.) The prompt for this particular piece was 'virgin'. I got carried away with this week so the next two submissions will have the 'virgin' prompt as well. For now, here's a little Coby and Helmeppo for you. Also, I extend a great appreciation to those who have commented thus far and, of course, everyone who has read. :)

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**Over the Edge**

"I'm going do die a virgin!" Helmeppo screamed. Coby was, sometimes unfortunately, a rather congenial person. It didn't take much for him to be civil and it took a great deal to get him annoyed except when under stress. Clinging to a sheer cliff wall with a drop of nine meters onto razor sharp rocks, held in place by scraped fingers and a thin rope with his best friend swinging free over the bulge and screaming into the wind definitely qualified as stress. Coby, politely, wished Helmeppo would shut the hell up.

"You're not going to die!" Coby called back. _I hope._ He tugged at his own rope, making sure it was secure, made his regrets, braced his feet against the cliff face and grabbed Helmeppo's rope with both hands, trying to pull him up. He was heavy and Coby's arms (according to Vice Admiral Garp) were still as useless as limp noodles. It was, in fact, Vice Admiral Garp's fault that they were down here. Coby cursed him and of course thanked him as well. The rope slid through his hands, blistering his fingers.

"I'm going to swing you toward the cliff!" he shouted, pulling the rope toward him. "Grab on!" Helmeppo met the cliff with his face first before swinging away again.

"You bastard!"Helmeppo squawked, blood dribbling out his nose. "Give me some warning next time!" Coby grinned sheepishly.

"Okay!" he said. "Ready?"

Helmeppo nodded.

"One, two, _three!_" Coby swung again, pulling up as he did so. The knot of his own rope tightened around his waist. Helmeppo managed to grab on this time, cramming his bleeding fingers into the small gaps in the rock. Coby grinned, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and continued to climb. They could do this.


	4. Asking for It

Well I'm back, delayed due to the FF.N glitch and it be thesis time so there is a lot of work. I hope they get that glitch fixed soon. It's really annoying. Anyhow, once again we have a ficlet based around the virgin prompt. This one has slashy leanings though if I told you the details, that would ruin the fun. Nothing R rated, really, just a bit of fun. So, just an ample warning. :)

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**Asking for It**

"You're not a virgin?" Sanji repeated, not able to wrap his mind around it somehow. Luffy grinned hugely at Sanji from his position, cross legged, between the horns of the Merry.

"Nope," he said, digging a finger absently in his nose. "Why, do I look like one?"

Sanji decided he didn't even want to comment. He should just let it go. He should. He took a cigarette from his pocket and started to light it, then stared at Luffy again. Luffy grinned back at him.

"You're really not a virgin?"

"Nope!"

"So you had sex," Sanji said, knowing, somehow, he was going to regret this line of questioning but unable to resist. It was like picking at a scab. You _knew_ it would heal if you just stopped but somehow the temptation was there to scrape at it with your fingernail and hope there wouldn't be pus.

"Yep," Luffy said, pulling his finger from his nose and contemplating the ball of snot on the end before flicking it out over the sea. Sanji was prepared to swear he saw it bounce.

"With a real live person," Sanji said. Luffy laughed.

"Is there any other way?" Then he looked contemplative, scratching at his chin. "Well I guess Chopper-"

"And it's not just some weird story Usopp told you," Sanji cut in, not wanting to go down that road.

"Nope."

He should have just left it at that….

"With who?"

"Nope! Can't kiss and tell!" Luffy said, resting his hands on his knees. "That ruins the fun."

"I don't believe it," Sanji said, putting the cigarette in his mouth but before he could light it Luffy was standing two feet in front of him, peering up with a manic grin.

"Want me to show you?"

And then the marines attacked.


	5. Honesty

Last for the virgin prompt. :) Starring Bachina.

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**Honesty**

They stand on the hill in the starlight, hand in sweaty hand. Her heart surges forward and pulls back. Each surge is stronger than the last and fills her head with water and soft silly foam. He takes a deep breath, thin nostrils flaring and touches her cheek that with a hard callused hand that smells like salt and sun.

"Are you a virgin?" he asks, voice soft. They had told her to say no. That pirates will always take what belongs to others. She's never been able to lie, not even when it might hurt. So she smiles and ducks her head and says:

"Yes."

***  
The baby is sick and squalling. The new doctor, whip-thin and nervous—a refugee from an island flattened by cruel men. She rocks the child in her arms and looks at him with tired eyes.

"You're not the pirate's woman, are you?" he asks from the open doorway. "I won't do anything for pirates."

She bites the inside of her lip and slowly nods, then winces as the door slams. She's never been able to lie, even when she should.

Her head is pounding, her tongue is swollen and her body feels like cast iron, creaking with fever. Outside she can hear the irritated noises of the villagers, doors slam and people shout. It's beautiful.

They told her to tell him to stop. They told her it isn't good for anyone.

He comes in, smiling at her with glassy eyes. Her own eyes smart and sting. She reaches up and touches his cheek, brown and smooth. She will miss him most.

"The pirates are coming," he says. "They really are! You believe me, right?"

She's never been able to lie. Even when it _does_ hurt. She smiles and says:

"Of course."


	6. Hunger

The prompt for this one was crutch. :) Nothing more really to say about it. Enjoy!

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**Hunger**

The carrot lay on the table, cut in irregular rounds. Not perfect yet. Sanji frowned. The sound of rapid chopping filled the air, the steady thock thock thock like frantic heartbeat. Sanji cocked his head so he could see that shit-cook who was working a cleaver through a thick juicy hank of meat. For now Zeff's back was turned. Sanji rested his hand over a handful of chopped carrot. His heart pounded in his throat. He shouldn't take it. He knew but just…just in case. Sanji curled his fingers under the wet slices, and slid them into his apron pocket.

"That's not for you!" the shit cook said and Sanji had just a moment for his heart to jump up and strangle him before the hard wood of the shit-cook's leg slammed into his cheek and sent him crashing hard against the wall.

"What was that for?" Sanji snapped, when he could see again, tasting blood in his mouth, eyes stinging. Zeff stood a few feet away, towering over the now silent kitchen, arms folded across his chest.

"If you're going to use food as a crutch, eggplant, you don't belong in a kitchen."

Sanji felt his cheeks heat. He grabbed the carrot from his apron and slammed them back onto a table before marching away, gritting his teeth. Once he reached his tiny berth he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve then scrabbled under his pillow for the small crumpled pack of cigarettes. After a few tries he managed to light the cigarette and took a deep draw, feeling the smoke filling his mouth, imagining it filling his belly. Soon even his hands stopped shaking. Sanji leaned his head back and blew out a thin stream of smoke. Zeff was wrong. He didn't need any shitty crutch.


	7. Going Merry, Going Strong

A little longer than 300 words but I had won that week. So enjoy this long piece (just a little late) for Usopp's birthday. For a brief explanation, the parenthesis were strikethroughs in livejournal but don't translate to FF.N. The parenthesis make things a bit awkward but I can't figure out another way to do it so for now, it stands.

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**Going Merry, Going Strong**

"You should take it easy," Chopper said, giving the bandages a final light tap. Usopp (winced) bore it bravely and tried pretend not to notice the ripple of pain that danced up his now (broken) ribs.

"I'll be fine," Usopp said, standing (almost) straight and putting his hands on his hips. A little pain was nothing! He'd been bandaged more times than he could count since starting on this journey and at this point, cracked ribs were just like a splinter...that caught just underneath the nail where you couldn't get it out. Chopper gave him a dubious look but moved on to check on Nami who had a concussion from one of the pirates they had fought. Usopp hadn't seen it because he'd been knocked senseless by that same sneaky bastard had gotten up behind him where he had been (hiding) strategically positioned behind some provisions they hadn't yet stored and smashed him right in the ribs with some kind of stone-hammer punch. Then the bastard had gotten Nami and then Sanji had kicked him so hard, Chopper had said, that the stupid stone pirate jerk had made a dent in the mast. Something else to fix.

Usopp took a shallow breath and made his way to the door so he could check the damage. Outside it was sunny and a cool wind filled the sails, still blowing from the spring island they'd left, he bet. Despite the wind the sea was barely ruffled. It was as if nothing had happened at all. Usopp made it to the mast without grimacing too much and then really did grimace as he saw the dent in the wood and metal, flecks of blood, too. Well, at least it didn't look too bad but he wasn't even sure how to fix that kind of thing. Too many more knocks like that and they might have to replace the whole mast. He sighed.

The ship pitched suddenly, enough to throw Usopp off balance and he stumbled, pain snapping up through him. The sea was getting rougher. It would probably be better to sit down and think about things in a cool manly way. He looked around for a suitably awesome spot but saw nothing more remarkable than Zoro napping away in the sunshine, not even scratched. Lucky him. Usopp went to sit beside him, more for company than anything else. Usopp tucked a hand over his ribs, than folded his arms because that looked tougher. He wondered what it was like to be Zoro. To not be afraid of anything. To not get beat up constantly— or get beat up and not care. It was probably because Zoro was strong enough to bite through a steel door. Maybe, when you were that strong, nothing could bother you.

Usopp lifted his head and stared at the sky which was starting to fill with little white clouds. But Usopp could get that way too, couldn't he? After all, Zoro was (more or less) a regular person, wasn't he? Though he'd probably spent an insane amount of time in training. (Though sometimes it seemed to Usopp that everyone on this ship was insane in one way or another). As if sensing he was being thought about Zoro shifted, stretching his arms out and yawning before tucking them behind his head and blinking in a bleary sort of way as if ready to go right back to sleep.

"Ne, Zoro," Usopp said, (before he lost the nerve) "How long did you have to train to get as strong as you are?" Not that he cared. Not that he wanted the advice or anything. Not that he wanted hope. He was already plenty strong. He was practically the greatest warrior that ever lived, only it was hard to see because half of his nakama consisted of overpowered monsters.

"I've trained every day since I was young," Zoro said. Usopp wasn't surprised but a strange disappointment settled just under his (broken) ribs. He had been half hoping there was some secret to Zoro's success. Quick and easy training. Even a devil fruit. Probably being built like the side of a mountain helped. Usopp nodded, stroking his chin with his fingers and tried to look introspective.

"Yes, that makes a lot of sense. Of course I used to train every day, too, when I was a kid but then I was elected unofficial mayor of Syrup and you know with all the ceremonies and important decisions there wasn't the time." He shook his head, spreading his hands regretfully. It was a stupid lie but he bet Luffy would believe him. Chopper definitely. Zoro snorted as if he most obviously didn't, but that was alright.

"You can't get stronger just by training," Zoro said, mildly surprising Usopp who had assumed it was the end of the conversation.

"Well I did a lot of fighting, too," Usopp said, not to be outdone. "This one time—"

"You can't get stronger just by fighting either." Zoro was staring at the sky, seeming thoughtful. "I used to think that was it, but now I wonder…" he trailed off, as if he wasn't sure himself. What else could it be?

_Natural talent,_ Usopp thought. _Luck._ Like how Luffy always managed to do what he set out to do no matter how many (armies) (people) armies stood in the way. Of course, Usopp had plenty of natural talent, too, and incredible luck. After all there were more than a few times when he was (eventually) able to (help) save the day! After all, there was that one time when they were attacked by a marine—a group of marines—two whole (ships) fleets full of marines! During a typhoon! And Usopp had stood on the pitching deck with the rain lashing into his face…and some kind of cloak that would look cool, something to whip in the wind—and then-

"Oi, oi, are you going to pay attention or not?"

"Oh, sorry, Zoro," Usopp said, looking back at him. The swordsman shot him an annoyed look but also a faint blush as if he was embarrassed by what he'd just said. Now Usopp really wanted to know. It would be great (blackmail) ammunition for later. Zoro gave him another long look and then said:

"Forget it." He gathered his swords and stood in one easy movement. Was it something silly? Something weird? Something dumb (yet strangely motivational) like eating five eggs in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday?

"Come on, tell me," Usopp said, leaning forward to stand and follow him. A crackling pain went up through his ribs and set him back against the hull. Damnit. He bit the inside of his lip and held his ribs. It…it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. He…he just wanted to sit here, that was all. Zoro looked down at him and sighed.

"I was just thinking that it's not enough to fight for the sake of fighting but to really become strong you have to fight to protect something."

"Protect something?" Usopp echoed, and suddenly felt bad for not listening the first time, for wanting to tease him about it. He had thought it was some trick, some weird training maybe but this was different, a fighting philosophy-like a warrior shared with another warrior and Usopp felt suddenly out of place, like whatever Zoro had been trying to say was wasted on him.

Still, Usopp wanted to say something, to lighten the mood, (prove he was worth….) prove he was worth speaking to. But he couldn't think of anything to say. As if sensing this, Zoro moved off, heading toward the damaged mast as if to take his place on watch. (Or maybe find somewhere quieter to sleep.) Usopp stared at the deck, rough and gouged here and there from the passage of feet, the dig and slide of a bullet.

It wasn't even as if he had anyone to protect. Chopper, maybe if he was in Brain Point. Nami, maybe but with the clima-tact she was (stronger) just as strong as he was. A warm wet wind came swirled across the deck and whispered over his nose. The sea rocked underneath the Merry's hull and she pitched and rolled with it, creaking like an old woman (or a young woman that couldn't stop coughing.)  
The Going Merry was strong, too, Usopp thought, patting the deck affectionately. She had protected all of them since the very beginning. She had taken them to the Grand Line and even to the white white sea in the sky. And somehow, despite Usopp's meager skill at ship repair, she had held mostly together even though her crew, (her nakama?) didn't always take the best care of her. Well, Usopp could protect her, anyway. And when he—when they got back to Syrup village, proud and scarred from their many adventures, the brave Captain Usopp could point out each scrape and patch in the Merry's hull to Kaya and tell her the grand story behind it and not even have to lie (much)

Usopp leaned his head back and saw the door to the galley open out of the corner of his eye. Nami stood in the open doorway, supported by Chopper in heavy point who was watching her concerned.

"There's a typhoon coming," she said, voice ringing above the rising wind. "A big one." She sounded worried. Well Usopp w…wasn't worried. (much) but the Going Merry's sails needed to be trimmed or they might be torn away. _Yosh,_ Usopp thought, using the railing to level himself upwards. His ribs pinched but he ignored it (as much as he could) and started for the mast.

"Be careful, Usopp!" Chopper called as Usopp started to climb the mast, wincing at the dent. Just the dent. Only the dent. It didn't hurt that much. Really it didn't. Usopp grinned at Chopper to reassure him that he was alright.

"A brave warrior of the sea always protects his ship!" he said, (pain) the wind carrying away his voice and making him sound smaller than he'd meant it. Oh well, never mind for right now. Usopp started to climb, noticing more dents and splinters the further up he got. The entire ship was due for an overhaul. Maybe on the next island they could find a shipwright to look at her. Until that time,

"Don't worry, Merry," he said, pausing for a moment to breathe, to wipe the rain from his face. "I'll take care of you."


	8. Before the Fall

Been a while, right? Anyway, no spoilers. Prompt: Falling

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**Before the Fall**

She's not going to fall. She tells herself this. Things are complicated enough. Things are comfortably simple as they are. They each have their roles to play. Falling would upset everything. Besides, she thinks, as she looks at the exquisitely made, exquisitely named Sunset Bliss, the ice clinking in the glass, he may be serious but he may not be 'serious'. Not in the way couples are. Not that she is either, to be frank.

Nami watches him stroll across the deck below, one hand casually shoved in his pocket, the other carrying a plate of treats he is likely going to deliver to Chopper and Usopp who have perched themselves up on the crow's nest. It's the cigarettes, she decides, watching him deftly avoid the ever seeking rubbery hands of their captain. It is the smoke that always clings to his slim form like it always clung to Bellemere. It reminds her of home.

A stinging jolt goes through her and she snaps her gaze down to the newspaper folded on her lap. She takes a sip of the drink and sets it aside, turning the pages restlessly, seeing nothing important.

"Something on your mind?" Robin says, her always smiling all knowing voice creeping over Nami like tide water, slow but inevitable. To bring it up would be to admit it and Nami has never been in the business of admitting anything.

"Nothing," Nami says, flicking open the paper. Robin chuckles as if she knows the truth already. But it's not the truth because it is nothing. It will be nothing. She is not going to fall and that was all there was to it.

"It might be fun," Robin says and Nami pretends she doesn't hear. After all, she is good at holding on.


	9. All Falls Down

No spoilers (unless you don't know Robin's back story.) Prompt: Waste

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**All Falls Down**

Aokiji had always considered himself cool-headed, even before he'd eaten the ice-ice fruit. _Laconic_, his instructors had written on his various reports. _Probably not going to go far_. Well so they had said and so they had been wrong. At any rate, he wasn't feeling anything near laconic at the moment. In front of him, and around, Ohara burned. A hot wind caught the edges of his coat and bought with it the smell of roasting wood and burning flesh. All for what? He knew the official reason. The reason why the Buster Call had been sent hammering against this tiny unassuming island like a tsunami. At the time he had felt it was justified.

And now… Well it still was, he supposed, but there was something too energetic about it all. The World Government was sending its entire weight after such a small island and an even smaller girl. He could still see her, a faint pale dot on a wide gray sea, threatening to pull her over into its depths. Probably a better fat than what was in store for her. Life as a fugitive was a hard enough for an adult and she had seemed as fragile as a blade of grass, ready to be crushed underfoot and scoured away by the fire. A shuddering boom sounded through the air, whether by Marines or spreading fire, it was hard to tell. Another piece of Ohara gone forever.

"It's such a waste," he murmured to his companion. But Saul, encased as he was in ice, could neither hear, nor answer.


	10. Skin Deep

**Skin Deep**

They don't think he knows. But he can tell. He's a Fishman, after all, but he isn't stupid. Of course the humans hate him- for taking away their village, their money, but most of all for taking away their little girl. That little brat of a girl who still works for him and smiles at him with cold cold eyes, threatens to kill him and even has tried once or twice or three times. She's a ruthless bitch, only out for blood, and he kind of likes that.

He isn't too sure when the switch happened himself. Maybe it was when the tattoo was inked into her skin and she'd just cried, tears and snot coming from her nose but biting her lip so hard that blood welled. Too tough of a bitch to cry out even then. Hachi had almost fits over it and Arlong had pretended that he didn't see the other Fishman trying his best to comfort her in his oafish way. Not that she even freaking noticed. Hachi was a soft heart and a soft head, but not all of his nakama had to be strong. Not all could be strong and out of all of them, Nami is the strongest.

She's the strongest and that just burns him.

"She'll get out of this, you know," her bitch of a sister had told him once as he made his way through town. People had tried to hush her up. Children had been hidden and he'd stopped and glared at her, but she just glared right back. He'd only knocked her around a little bit and wasn't sure why he didn't just kill her then. Well, no, he knew. Take away everything someone has and all they will do is fight and Nami will die trying to kill him. Which meant he would be out a cartographer, the village would be up his gills and Hachi would be upset.

Hachi was always upset.

And she's getting close to the mark now. He grits his teeth until they want to break after he sends her on her way. Which doesn't really matter, or shouldn't, as he can grow another set, but the fact that they shatter means he's angry and he doesn't like to be angry, not over this. She will buy her pathetic little village back. She thinks she can. But he won't let her. There will never be enough money she can earn to get everything she wants.

The laugh over that is always bitter. Always stings his throat and wraps around his vocal cords like acid.

Because in the back of his mind, all he can see is Brother Ti, looking at him with those tired, old eyes and saying over and over

_You're just like them._

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Inspired by Nekotsuki. Check her out!


	11. A Little Assurance

Not made for anything, but loosely inspired by the "misunderstanding" prompt at OP_300. Frobin shipping ahead.

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A Little Assurance

* * *

Robin sits up and pulls the blanket around herself, more out of the faint chill of cooling sweat than any form of modesty. They've dropped that long ago. Almost since from the beginning, though perhaps, not that soon. The light from the aquarium casts the room in faint blue curls of light, and she stares a moment into its depths. A rainbow eel glides on some invisible current and shimmering through flecks of moonlight, and she reflects on the moment of the irony of appreciating the beauty of something you're going to eat later. Franky rests on the floor at her feet, his chin resting on his huge mechanical hands. There's really no room for him elsewhere and he takes up enough space as it is, filling the room with the faint smell of metal and ever present hint of cola. There is sweat, too, now, and other scents, uncommon these days but welcome for the most part.

On impulse she rests her feet on his back, feeling the warm flesh and the curve of his spine, and absently presses her heels into the muscles there, not corded with steel for all his wanting them to be. Franky groans in appreciation, not too loudly, but heartfelt just the same. He can be subtle when he wants to be. He can even be, dare she think it, quiet.

"You're a goddess, Nico Robin," he mutters to the unforgiving floorboards he'd planed and laid himself with his much smaller (than now anyway) hands. She smiles.

"And you're a cyborg." Hands blossomed from his back like wings work at the muscles on his neck and shoulders and she can feel the heat there and also the change in sensation as flesh begins to overlay metal, the hidden rivets of Franky's body.

"Would you change this if you could?" she asks, drumming her heels absently and lightly against his back, the one that he had come with, the spine that had stretched and knotted of its own accord as he'd grown, flesh and blood and bone.

"Of course I would. I'm a self made man."

A stupid pun and she drums her heel a little to hard for that, making him grunt. But also because as much as it's a joke, it's true. And one day he will. Will he still be Franky if he is steel and wire rather than flesh and blood? Of course. But it's as if whatever part of him there used to be is being meticulously cut away to make room for something new, something self created, until the only part of his past that remained was inside his own head. History disappearing has always set her teeth on edge, even if it's his own and his right to do with it what he wants.

"When you do, I want your spine," she says, running a blossomed hand down his back, feeling the bumps and ridges as she goes, and the marks that she so recently put there, still heated and raw. Franky chuckles, a noise that vibrates (and echoes) through him.

"You're sadistic," he says, but pleasantly, as he sits up, ruining her perch. She rests her legs instead on his shoulder, high enough, even seated below her, to be mildly uncomfortable, but she does anyway, crossing her legs at the ankle and watching his gaze slide from her face to where the blanket is threatening to slip away.

"And you're masochistic," she says, pulling the blanket back up to reign in his attention. "That makes us well suited, ne?"

"I just have a great pain tolerance," he says with a grin and she can see his pride swelling like a balloon behind his eyes.

"Not everywhere," she says with a smile, just watch that balloon deflate, just a hair. "And I still want your spine if you're not using it," she says, moving her foot to press a toe against his nose, cycling through the hair variations that don't seem to make much use other than that they are fun and make his head look less like a tiny pebble on top of a boulder.

"You can make it into a bookshelf for me," she adds. He grabs her ankle gently, with the smaller hand coming from the larger one, metallic yes, but also controlled, a precision with human intent behind every nuance of pressure. He looks at her, his eyes serious in the blue of the aquarium.

"You can rebuild the ship all you like, Nico Robin, but you can't replace the keel," he says, understanding as he always does, somehow in the depths of his cola saturated brain, just what she was asking.

"See that you don't." Because she's already laid claim to it. It is her job to preserve history, after all, even if it lies unseen behind a mass of moving parts that have no business being on a human. But a cyborg is a different story. He grins, as if catching that, too, somehow, and kisses the arch of her foot. It tickles and for a moment she's caught between pulling her foot away or playfully kicking him in the face. She votes for the former since it's almost dawn and a bleary eyed navigator will be levering herself out of bed. Not that Robin particularly cares if Nami knows, but secrets are so much more fun. She pulls her leg and he lets her go. She stands and pulls on her night clothes, aware of him watching, getting ideas—for the future, of course. He knows a goodbye when he sees one.

"Oi," he says when she's at the door. "What to do I get?" Another half joke. An important question. She turns, halfway, shaking her hair over her shoulders in a single smooth movement to give him a shadowed look, a faint smile— and leaves without answering because that is a woman's prerogative. Especially since, as to the answer, she really doesn't know.

Outside the deck is warm under her feet and the sky is star washed in the faint tired way of an incoming dawn. The air is mild still but with the undertone of a bite that suggests a winter island, or at least a late autumn one. Sanji, still a little bleary eyed it seems, but steady as always, comes from out of the boy's cabin and gives her a surprised look.

"Oh, Robin-chan, you're awake," he says.

"No I'm not," she tells him, knowing that, even though he doesn't believe her, he won't contradict her either. It was so easy on this ship. Too easy. Wonderfully easy. She enters her room, deftly dodges the pillow tossed by Nami, mostly still asleep and goes to her own bed. She clutches the pillow and sleeps easily, dreaming of bookshelves made of strong white bone.


	12. In Such Sleep

**In Such Sleep...**

* * *

No matter what he tells himself, he doesn't really need to sleep. He doesn't really need to eat or drink or pee or do any of those fleshy living things. Though it had been bizarre in a sense to discover that he could. Those first few years, because he doesn't know how to measure the time any finer than that, he had been afraid to sleep—afraid of the darkness that would sweep over him like the final curtain— or rather the final final curtain, when he would really be swept away into that black unknown, since, despite all of the things he _can_ remember, that fate is forgotten as easily as a sneeze. Though, ah, he's forgotten sneezes, too. The moment of sensation, how good it feels knowing one is coming—the explosion of sound. He tries to imagine one in his nose cavity just now. Makes the sound. There is a faint mutter from Usopp-san, perhaps a polite 'bless you' or a piece of dream slipping through into the waking world. Brook listens hard to discern which—but there is no other sound but quiet breathing and buzzsaw snores. Breathing—he doesn't need to do. Nor can his heart jump in surprise, or joy, or love, for all that he still feels these things. But, where is his head? He is rambling and he's trying to focus more these days. The sea is not as wide as it once was—or rather, perhaps, its width doesn't matter so much anymore.

No, he doesn't need to sleep. At first he didn't want to, and then he did often. He might have passed days in sleep or years. And there were only a few dreams, though they were only memories of middle moments and final moments and last moments, and maybe he'd been awake after all and just going crazy. It was hard to tell sometimes. But whether memory or dream, there had been no fantasy, no hope, just longing, watching his nakama slip through his bony fingers again and again and again. True sleep had been blackness, emptiness, escape, a shutting off of consciousness. And when his shadow had been stolen, he hadn't slept at all. He'd been awake. He'd been _angry, _and afraid, full of purpose and desperation. The shadow was his, it was the principal of the thing, it was a promise long held in the back of his empty skull. And then, they had come along, and he thought he _had _been sleeping. Just seeing the prow of this merry little ship and all those faces staring at him with skin and eyes, standing out more real than the clinging mist, a surge of hope at last charging up his spine.

Brook shifts over on his side and peers at their captain, his eyes, though he has none, adjusted to the gloom to see the boy's features well enough. Luffy-san takes up more of the box hammock than even Brook does, and droops off the sides as well. His hand is low enough so that, with the movement of the ship, every sway of the hammock sends a small gust of air feathering Sanji-san's hair. Carefully, Brook reaches out and presses against Luffy-san's cheek with a single bone-white finger, watching it give. It is warm and Brook would like to think it's because he feels it through strange invisible nerves, but it's probably his imagination. Funny thing about imagination, though. They say that when a someone loses an arm or leg, even though the limb is gone, a phantom limb remains. There are five fingers that cannot lift anything, but still hurt, still move, still fall asleep in that annoying but lively dance of pricking needles. And Brook has phantom nerves. A phantom stomach. A phantom heart that beats against the lattice of his ribs and if he places his hand there he is sure he can feel it if he tries hard enough. He is a phantom of flesh, stitched together with nakama, purpose, hopes and dreams. Yes, dreams…

Because they exist now. Fields of flowers, moonlit skies, purple waves and marshmallow clouds, rolling with music and faces. Chopper-san and Robin-san have tea with Captain Yorki. Laboon breaches from the waves, singing songs of whale joy that carry forever and vibrates everyone's bones. Brook laughs. And sometimes he cries. And sometimes he screams and sometimes he fights. Sometimes the dreams are unpleasant but that doesn't matter because when he wakes up there are people to wake up to. People to talk to. To laugh with and tease, to fight and fight with. There is someone who still waits for him. There is sun or rain, joy or worry but no matter what, pushing forward as they surge through the waves toward a bright future.

"What dream shall I have tonight?" Brook says to himself, rolling onto his back and lacing his fingers together over his chest.

"Come with me!" Luffy-san says, or Brook thinks he says, or maybe imagines he says—in whichever case, Brook can only follow.


	13. Closing Time

**Closing Time**

* * *

This is the first in a Chaos Prompt thread that I did with some friends. This particular prompt was "Closing Time", so I thought I would keep things simple.

* * *

Goodness, what a day. Makino wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The muggy summer air was getting to her. She set the last chair up on the table and dusted her hands. Well then, it was done. Time to go home and take a nice bath.

She took off her apron and went to the door, and paused, the sight of the sea catching her eye as it always did, glimmering with moonlight. It was so wide and Luffy was out there, with nakama now, thank goodness, but what a rough man he'd seemed to have fallen in with. Not that she was worried per se. That boy could smooth out anyone's rough edges. Even one who had seemed to be all rough edges and flinty points.

An arm slipped around her waist. Only one. And somehow between then and now she'd gotten used to it. There was the smell of whiskey that went with it and the smell of the sea, always that, briny and intoxicating but frightening too, in a way.

"You're leaving tonight," she said. He smelled too much of whiskey to stay around until the morning.

"I have things to do."

"Liar." But she spoke affectionately. "What happened to all your pirate's freedom?"

"Everything comes with a price," he said, pressing a rough whiskey kiss to her cheek. "Even freedom."

She turned her head to capture his mouth and it turned gentle because he was a gentleman after all. Calm on the surface but wild as sea waves. His hand brushed over her stomach absently like feeling the tune of a guitar and she took it and moved her mouth from his to kiss the backs of his fingers.

"We're closed, sir. Get out," she said, swatting her apron at him. He grinned and moved around her.

"As you wish," he said with a little bow and then turned away, just like that, to start back toward ship and sea, lamp light on his red hair, black coat swirling around him.

"And come back," she murmured, though if he heard, he gave no acknowledgement. He would come back, in some form or another. And when he did... She smiled and put a hand low on her belly. They would be waiting.


	14. The Cost of Letting Go

**The Cost of Letting Go**

* * *

This is depressing with chances of light SanSopp

* * *

The hardest part was saying goodbye. The worst part was leaving. Sanji sat on the railing, smoke quietly trailing from between his lips as he tried to pretend he didn't feel anything as Syrup Village slipped away into the hazy distance. He'd always been too good at pretending. Too good at being something half of what he was to impress every one he wanted to be. He smirked to himself as he took another drag. Philosophy had never been his forte either. But then, what did the head chef need with this shit? All he needed was to go back to the Mermaid Deck. He closed his eyes and thought of that beautiful little restaurant, floating in the middle of the All Blue which they had bled and nearly died to save, and had, barely, by the skin of their teeth, but what a rescue. And his little ship, his little dream, he had it all. And yet, you couldn't have it all.

He opened his eyes again. The island was even further now. He scanned the water, half expecting (hoping, damnit) for there to be some sign of a flailing Usopp as he tried to catch up, hearing his voice on the wind. _Wait! I changed my mind! I lied!_ But there was nothing. Just the waves and the wind in the sails. But, ah, he knew it would be like that. Hadn't they had this conversation? It hadn't been words. Not as such. Just a lot of not looking. A lot of not saying. 'I love my dad but…'_ I'm not like him. I_ won't_ be like him._ 'Kaya's my girl'_ sorry. Really. I know how it was but—_

Well things were how they were. And, well, the East Blue was just a small drop in the large large ocean, in which, there were plenty of fish…and he should know. Though he could have done without the end. It was always too damn hard in the end. The awkwardness. The change. It hurt even though he'd known from the beginning that it would be this way.

A shadow fell over him and some of the old tension tightened along Sanji's back, because even without haki he knew who it was. There was no one else in this damn ship who would even come close to him without some kind of awed fascination, plus the guy exuded an aura of 'annoying as hell'.

"You have a problem, _Captain_?" Sanji said, and winced inwardly at his own words. Way more biting than he meant it to be but a man couldn't take it back if he meant it and Zoro, damn him, just stood there like a moss topped rock, one arm hanging outside of his haori which still had the Mugiwara Jolly Roger on the back. Of course it did. One thing that would never change. Zoro had a family to take care of. 500 strong and more if you counted the islands he took care of now. The weight of the whole damn Grand Line was on his shoulders and he looked like he didn't even give a shit. Bastard.

"Do you regret it?" Zoro asked finally, not looking at him, eyes fixed on the vanishing island. Friend. Nakama. And things he didn't want to think about. But he had to think about it because there was a challenge in Zoro's words. A question. Did he regret it? The expected answer was no. That was why they had lived their lives after all. That was why they had followed Luffy to the ends of the world and beyond it. Fought and lost. Fought and suffered. Fought and won. Why they were still fighting in their own ways… Sanji swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. He was too proud to say yes.

He was too honest to say yes.

"Do you?"

A challenge with a challenge.

Because bending to the truth seemed to be bending a bit too far.

"It's what he wants."

Cutting straight to it. Sanji felt strangely eviscerated. In any case, there was nothing more to say. Nothing more to do except…except watch things end, piece by piece.

"Captain!" someone called from the Crow's Nest. Zoro lifted a hand to catch the spyglass that had been tossed down and looked through it with his one good eye. Something changed in his expression and Sanji looked away, holding up a hand for the spyglass which was pressed into his hand. He hesitated for only a breath

And looked.

There was Usopp, Usopp's back as he stood on the cliff, black hair tossed by the wind, right arm thrust into the air, a black x marked sharp against his skin. Whatever happens, this mark will let us know we're nakama.

"Your one brilliant plan, Marimo," Sanji muttered, handing the spyglass back and unbuttoning his sleeve.

"Shut up, Curly Brow," Zoro said. "I've had others."

Sanji snorted and wanted to argue, but this wasn't the time for it. Instead he turned with Zoro, back to the island and the sea, and thrust his fist into the air without hesitation, knowing that Usopp would be looking for it. Waiting for it. Hoping for it.

Zoro stood with him. Even when the island had long passed from view. Even when the air turned cold and rain splattered on the deck and his arm shook slightly with the effort. When the rain splashed his face, too, Zoro said nothing. The wind gusted and in it Sanji thought he heard (wanted to hear) a laugh.

_Come on, guys! This isn't the end. Just keep getting stronger and we'll meet up later. I promise. _


	15. Slippery When Wet

**Slippery When Wet**

* * *

Damn rain. He hated it. Well, by and large he hated most things. That was partly what justice was about after all. You hated the assholes that made you need justice in the first place, and you hated the assholes who, if there were any justice-shouldn't be so damned-damned heroic. Because what the hell was he supposed to do? A pirate was a pirate. Exceptions made things complicated. And, even worse, no matter what the little rubbery bastard did, Smoker seemed to end up the one with the promotion.

Bastards.

All of them.

Especially the rubber ones.

Smoker cupped his hand over the cigar and lit it, then took a deep breath and looked up at the rain falling that he could barely see in the gathering night.

He hated rain. Especially cold rain. Especially cold rain that fell and formed ice in the cobblestones of the street that was hard to see on a dark night and if anyone had seen him fall ass over jitte they hadn't said anything. He'd hear the rumors about it though. The squeaky nose giggles. Damn squeaky nose giggles. He couldn't fault the men for having a sense of humor, though, inasmuch as he wanted to.

"Sir?" Tashigi poked her head out of the inn window, resting her arms on the frame. "Are you all right?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" And he turned his face up to the rain because if he didn't cool the heat in his face it would look like he was blushing which he was damn well not.

"It's okay. I fall all the time. It only hurts your pride if you let it."

He'd like to have a retort. It would make him feel better. But as much of a ditz as she could be, when she was right, she was right. Still...

"I'll be back later." He shoved his hands into his pockets and started through the streets, carefully this time. Someone had to be doing something wrong in this beat up old town and Smoker intended to find them and arrest the hell out of them.

The rain kept falling in a gentle hush like it was laughing at him and he could have sworn he heard another laugh, just as quiet, from the direction of the inn but when he looked back, no one was there and the window was closed.

Smoker shook his head and went back on his way, slipping only once and where no one could even see.


	16. To Know You

**To Know You**

* * *

They said Kuina had eyes in the back of her head. And maybe they were right. Whenever someone made a face, she seemed to know. Whatever whispered comment might pass in the boy's room where, sprawled over futons, personal space was just a helpful suggestion, she heard about it the next day. None of them could guess how. Even Sensei, who knew everything and was her father besides, seemed amused by it-but always with a bit of melted ice behind his smile as if it hurt just a little bit. But boys though they were, they were man enough not to notice or forget what they had seen.

In any case, Kuina knew. She always did. Even if they were careful. Even if it had been in the bath. And one of the older boys had said she was a shadow demon, just as a tease, and the next day Kuina had lifted her eyes from her rice bowl and pinned him with a stare that could have nailed a fly down dead at thirty paces. He'd had an upset stomach for a week afterwards and didn't whisper again.

"She knows," they told the new kid. The weird new kid. All dirty feet and granite expression and green hair who'd frowned so severely at the shinai in his hands that they were surprised the bamboo didn't split just from the force of it. "She always knows," they'd said. "So don't say anything stupid..." and then looking at him added under their collective breaths: "If you can help it."

"Of course she knows," he'd said. "She expects it. Doesn't matter what you say. So might as well say it to her."

So the next day when he promptly told Kuina that she had chicken legs and had matched her stare for stare, the boys whispered and buzzed and fights broke out over whether this kid was that brave or had that much of a death wish.

Either way, they knew they were outmatched and could only sit back and watch. It wasn't long before they learned to enjoy the show.


	17. A Man's Choice

**A Man's Choice**

* * *

No…No, damnit. Ace shut the box again, and fingered the latch closed. He could give it to one of the others. He should give it to one of the others. He didn't need that kind of thing. He never had. He was strong enough on his own without it. Always had been. Yeah. So he didn't need that thing. He shoved the box aside and leaned back in the chair, pushing it back on two legs and stared at the empty desk that he couldn't remember ever really using for desky things. All that was on it right now was some old newspapers, a girly mag somewhere, a tankard of rum and that stupid ass box which he didn't need. Not at freaking all.

But what if it did something really cool? Ace rested his fingers against the lid, flicking the latch up with his thumb and opened the box again, staring at the round swirly fruit inside. Some of them were really awesome, like Pops', and some were sort of awesome looking, like Jozu's—except not really on Jozu— and lent itself to really stupid jokes that not even Luffy would laugh at. Well Luffy might laugh but only because he was an idiot. Ace rested his chin on his fist. But as awesome as the fruit could be, it could also turn out really dumb. Every one had heard about the ox ox fruit: cow model guy, who'd got so ridiculed he became a hermit. Not that Ace was worried at all about what people called him. He'd gotten too used to stupid names that weren't true and other names that were and made him want to punch assholes in the face just for saying them. But it was going to be hard to make a name for himself if he turned into something weird like a sea sponge, or gained the ability to fart bubbles or something like that.

Except he'd already made his decision.

Or had he?

Damnit.

"Knock knock." Thatch said from behind the door of the tiny cabin. "Is anyone home?"

"No," Ace said. "Beat it."

"Okay," Thatch said and opened the door.

Bastard. Jerk.

Ace decided not even to acknowledge him as Tatch's shadow fell over him and he rested his chin on Ace's head, just to be an asshole. He did whack away the questing fingers that were reaching for his rum, though…which Thatch gave up easily enough because Ace knew what he was really in here for.

To bug the shit out of him.

"Ace-kun has a big decision," Thatch said. "Would a new issue of Busty Babes help?"

"Not everything can be solved by a new issue of Busty Babes," Ace muttered. Anyway all of Thatch's "new" issues were months old, well circulated, and all the really good pictures were usually already torn out.

"No but you could turn into one," Thatch said, resting an elbow on Ace's shoulder. "Could help you determine a cup size."

"Get bent."

"Well well. Has Ace-chan made a decision?" Vista's voice boomed into the room, followed by the swordsman himself. Ace clenched his teeth as an additional pressure on his head meant that Vista was resting his chin on Thatch's head and peering down at him.

"I had the door closed for a reason, you know," Ace said, not that it would matter with these assholes.

"I didn't see a closed door," Vista said. "Did you, Thatch?"

"Nope."

"Liar," Ace said, tempted to elbow Thatch in the gut but that would mean that he was really making a big deal of this whole decision thing which he really wasn't. Not at all. Because it wasn't a big big deal. A man just wanted some privacy between himself and his fruit. Was that too much to ask?

"Has Ace made a decision?" Haruta said said from the door.

"What is he? Namur asked.

"I bet he's a squid-man," Jozu said.

"I like squid," Namur said.

Wasn't bugging him. Not at all.

"He's going to be a lady," Thatch said.

"Nice choice," Vista said, giving him a thumbs up. Yep. That was it.

"Get out, you assholes!" Ace snapped and for a moment he was focused on punching, kicking,shoving or otherwise glowering laughing nakama out of his room. He slammed the door and latched it for good measure and glared at it. How the hell was a man supposed to make an important decision with these dumbasses around? He turned back to his desk and saw Marco sitting on it. That— How had he even—

"Yo," Marco said, lifting a hand. Ace glared at him, all ready to send the bastard flying, first division commander or not. He started forward and Marco seemed to ruffle a bit, then shifted into bird form, his tail swishing over the edge of the desk. Cheating bastard. Fine. So he had a giant blue sparkly chicken in his room. No big deal. He flopped down in the chair and stared at the Devil Fruit again, rocked back on the chair and out of the corner of his eye, watched Marco twist his head sneakily toward his tankard.

"Keep your beak outta my grog," Ace said, grabbing said beak and wrenching it away. Marco made a squeaky sound and Ace let him go to bring his mug closer to himself. Marco ruffled for real this time, his flaming feathers, fluffing up as he seemed to give Ace a look asking him how he could take food from a birdie's mouth even though it was rum not food and it was Ace's damn rum to begin with. Well he knew the solution to that. Ace down the rum in two swallows and slammed the tankard back on the table.

"Ha!" he said, but Marco only poked his head inside the tankard, as if searching for stray drops. If Ace was affected by cute it would have almost done him in. But he wasn't affected by cute and even if he was, Marco wasn't cute at all and Ace could roast him like a turkey even now without much trouble. Apparently, though, there wasn't enough rum drops even for a bird because Marco soon took his head out, shoved the tankard to the side and stared at Ace.

Ace stared back at him, determined not to be moved at all by that deadpan expression.

Marco stared back.

Ace stared back at him staring back until his eyes started to water. Didn't birds blink? Maybe they didn't.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Ace snapped, closing the lid of the box again. Marco gave him a little bird shrug and started to preen his wing feathers, getting sparkles everywhere. Ace watched him continue to be obnoxiously innocent all over his desk and eventually poked him a few times in the feathery chest.

"Are you sure you're not really a bird that ate a human fruit?"

"Are you sure you're not an idiot that ate the man fruit?" Marco said. Ha ha. Funny.

"I'll wring your neck, featherbrain," Ace said.

"Try it, yoi," Marco said and pecked him right on the forehead. Ace glowered at him. Marco moved as if to peck again and Ace tackled him with a yell. Marco squawked like a chicken and it was hard to fight when there were wings beating at his face but he wrestled the bastard to the ground anyway despite the pecks that kept landing on his head. Ace tried to grab one of the flailing wings. No way in hell was he being beaten by an…

"Has he eaten it yet?" a hushed voice from outside.

…overgrown…

"I don't know."

"What is he now?"

"I don't _know_."

…sparkly…

"I thought he was a squid," Namur said.

…chicken…

Ace drummed his fingers against the floor.

"I wonder if it's the hothead-hothead fruit?"

"Wouldn't change much."

Laughter.

"I can hear you, you know!" Ace shouted. Silence.

"Did he say he was a bear?" someone whispered. Gritting his teeth, Ace marched to the door, unlatched it, and flung it open, and it bounced off of something and nearly closed. What—?

"Ow!"

That…

Ace opened the door slower this time and saw a whole slew of nakama and Pops, lying on the deck and rubbing his nose where the door had hit him.

"Damnit, guys! Knock it off!"

"We just want to know," Pops said with a huge hurt frown, continuing to rub his nose. A frown matched by nearly everyone else. Staring at him with big eyes if they thought it would work. Well it wouldn't! He didn't go in for cute and anyway these morons weren't cute.

"I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sounded like you were trying to wrestle Marco," Thatch said. Grinned. "And losing."

Ace punched him. Thatch punched him back. Things escalated and it was only when he was in the middle of beating off Jozu's contingent of allies with Teach at his back, Thatch trying to sneak in from the side and Pops 'Gurararing' above that he remembered he was supposed to be making a stupid decision about a stupid Devil Fruit. Ace growled and wiped the blood from his nose, moving at the last minute so Thatch crashed full on into the oncoming Jozu before ducking back into his room, latching the door again and dragged the sea chest against it.

He turned back to the desk and saw Marco sitting on it, tossing the Devil Fruit in one hand. Oh right, he was still here.

"Give me that," Ace snapped, grabbing it from him mid-flight and sitting next to him on the desk. He stared at the fruit in his hands. Weird how something this small and innocent looking could make such a damn difference.

"No matter what it does, it's not going to change who you are, yoi," Marco said. Ace snorted._ If only_, he thought. Not that he really wanted to change who he was. Well—sort of. It was just—

"You just thought: 'if only', didn't you?" Marco said.

"Hey, shut up!" And so what if he did? He had a right to, didn't he? If he wasn't— If he was anyone else— Had been from anyone else none of this would really matter. Not that he cared because he really wasn't anything like that man, no matter what anyone said. He was his own person and he didn't need a Devil Fruit to prove it. It was sour anyway.

"The truth is, Ace is Ace whether he has an ability or not, yoi. It's not really going to change anything."

"It's not like I need it," Ace said. And it was way too sour. Almost beyond belief. And bitter, too. Why would anyone eat this thing voluntarily?

"Of course not. But who cares about things like that?" Marco shrugged. "Just do it because it's fun, yoi."

Just because it was fun. What kind of idiot philosophy was that? But—yeah. Ace licked his fingers. Why not? Just for fun. Who gave a damn what it did as long as he had fun with it. Whatever it did, it had to be fun. And if anyone mocked him for it, he'd just kick their ass and move on.

"Yeah, I guess I will eat it then. Why the hell not," Ace said with a grin.

Marco stared at him. Just stared. A bead of sweat creeping down the side of his face. What? He hadn't been joking had he? Had he? If he had Ace really was going to throttle him.

"What?" Ace said. "You'd better not start saying shit for me wanting to eat it or I'll-"

"You just did."

"I just did what?"

"You just ate it," Marco said pointing at him. Ace stared at his empty hands. Oh hey the fruit was gone.

"WHAAT? How the hell did that happen!?" He had just— It had just been right there and— He hadn't even— "What the hell is wrong with these weird fruits?"

"…You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Marco said. Ace glowered at him, and jabbed a finger at him. Though his witty comeback died in his throat as a wave of fire raced over Marco's head turning him from mostly sort of bald to all bald, blond tufts crumbling away to ash. Ace stared at his hand. Fire was licking over it but it didn't hurt. He didn't even really feel it, except he sort of did, like he felt his own fingers or toes, not a separation but…an extension… Huh…

Marco was staring at him. A single blond hair resting near his forehead, wavering with the heat rolling off of Ace's hand. He lifted his finger and pressed it against that tuft, burning it away completely, before shoving his hands in his pockets and striding toward the door, whistling. He unbarred the door, opened it, and realized his pants were on fire a split second before Marco slammed into him from behind.

* * *

for CCles


	18. The Quiet Truth

**The Quiet Truth**

* * *

Zoro didn't dream much as a general rule, not that he could remember. Some dreams he actively forgot, or tried, pushing them in the recesses of his memory, banishing the grainy images when they caught him unexpectedly under the skin in waking hours.

Some dreams were all right. Just the lucid energy of fighting, the thrum of swords. It used to be him alone against a thousand opponents, the hard fast thrill that he wasn't going to die but come to the inch of that doorway. It had bit in his throat like a blade and his mouth always tasted like steel afterwards. He'd never gotten to the end of those.

Lately, though, those kinds of dreams had become colored with meaning, colored with nakama. Luffy by his side, or maybe a little ahead, red vest like a meaningless target as he pummeled enemies to dust. Nami somewhere behind, filling the air with the whining snap of electricity. Usopp's voice as it rose and trembled and lied, but nevertheless sent fireballs careening through the battlefield, sending targets flying with pinpoint accuracy. Chopper in two places, usually, both plowing through enemies with huge furry arms and clinging to Zoro's leg, alternately panicking and yelling at him about bandages, hemorrhaging, concussions and to just lay down all ready and stop being so stubborn or he's going to get sat on.

Sometimes Vivi was there, zipping through the flashing swords on Caroo, her Peacock Slashers humming through the air. Usually it was soundless, but sometimes he could faintly hear her screaming 'everyone, listen! Please!' and he knew if he could just lay enough of them low it would be quiet enough to hear, but there would be no one alive to listen.

Sometimes Nico Robin, and while her hands caught enemies, they sometimes caught nakama, too, before he could cut them away. He'd seen Luffy skewered more than once, unable to dodge because of the hands that wrapped him in place. Those dreams were the only ones that Sanji was actively in, screaming with the rest of them as they watched their captain die bloodless on the sand.

Otherwise, the cook was always somewhere off t his right, out of sight, but not quite out of hearing, the sounds of his hits fitting the rhythm of the battle. Though when _that _sound is gone, he worries. When that sound is gone he knows the tide of battle is going to turn against them. Quiet brings the hands and Vivi's plaintive cries and it is always followed by the screaming. Though he hadn't yet watched Luffy die, always managing to bully himself awake.

As he was now, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling the swaying of the ship. He closed his eyes and passed a hand over his face, scrubbing away the remnants of the nightmare. The vision was gone but the feel of it lingered. The tightness of his chest, the wavering heat, the smell of blood thick in the air.

Ugh.

He rubbed a hand through his hair and sat up, blinking in the dimness until he could see his nakama over and around him. Chopper had made his way to Usopp's hammock, probably due to a skittering nightmare of his own and the longnose was curled protectively around him, drooling into his fur. Sanji with a skinny arm resting over his eyes. Luffy flopped over everywhere, fingers twitching as if reaching for the hat which had fallen to the deck sometime in the night. Zoro stood and picked the hat up, putting it back in its rightful place on Luffy's chest. Luffy snorted and twisted his head to the side, his arm slowly rose to palm the curve of the hat, holding it close.

"Don't lose it so carelessly, idiot," Zoro murmured. Luffy made a noise and murmured something that could have been an apology but could easily have been something about food. He resisted the urge to rest a hand on Luffy's stomach—but that would just serve to prove to himself the holes weren't there—and he knew they weren't. So he just ruffled his captain's hair and took his swords and went up into the night.

Chilly air swept down as he opened the hatch. A sign that they weren't in Alabasta's weather system any more and he closed it quickly but quietly. No land in sight at all now. Just empty sea and glimmering stars. It reminded him of that night when he'd woken on the little rowboat he'd bought when first starting out and realized he was alone. Home, difficult enough to find on land, was now impossible by sea. A cold sea and blistering stars and three swords, two overpriced slices of metal and _Wado_, practically nameless then, sleeping— He hadn't been afraid. He had never been afraid of anything. But he'd felt so small and the dream he'd promised so far away, almost unreachable.

Now _Wado_ was awake, not actively like _Kitetsu _which always wanted to bite, but the kind of patient waiting to cut nothing, to cut anything. He felt like a man on a ship, his ship, their ship, getting bigger in a world that was getting smaller by the day. But he also felt like a man with lives in his hands and on his shoulders. They were counting on him to be strong. To keep the way clear.

He heard her coming before she spoke.

"Perfect night for brooding, ne, Swordsman-san."

He turned to look at her. She was leaning on the railing just outside the galley, steam curled off the mug she was holding and dissipated into the cold night air. She was on watch tonight, he remembered. She was taunting him, though, so he ignored it, watching her, trying to guess her game. She had to have one. To her credit, she'd never said she didn't have one—as if she was giving them a hint about something down the line. She watched him watching her, expression closed until she smiled. A mask. Covering something.

"This would be a perfect opportunity to do me in, you know." A hand came from his waist and tapped _Wado's_ hilt. The sword didn't so much as stir. She was teasing him, but it was a warning to. Look what I can do. You don't have a chance. Testing the waters.

"I wonder what stops you," she said lightly. "Could it be I'm actually growing on you? Or are you just bound so tightly to your captain's wishes?"

Zoro snorted. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be here. He'd still be puttering around in the East Blue. A small frog in a big pond. Anyway, that wasn't a question worth answering either. She knew the answer just as well as he did. The only thing that stopped him was that she hadn't done anything yet. But the moment she did- The moment that changed— She shifted, straightening, holding the mug and crossing an arm over her stomach. Irritated. Defensive. He hadn't struck so she had no idea yet how to guard.

"Well, Mr. Strong and silent. If you have a problem with it, you should take it up with your captain. I didn't ask him to save me."

"Maybe he thought you were worth saving."

Her eyes widened and then hardened and she lifted the cup to her face to drink, tilting her head forward so that her bangs hid her expression. But it was too late. He'd seen it and she knew he had. When she looked up again, there was no mask but an expression hard as diamond, flat as a blade. The moment when a cornered creature bites.

But bites came out of fear. And she was afraid. Of something far deeper than Zoro knew. For far longer than Zoro could guess. If she did bite, it would be the end. She couldn't let him live and he couldn't allow her to kill him. She knew that, too and was almost trembling with indecision. He gathered his katana in one hand, and her hands wrapped around his throat, a lot of them, cold strong fingers pressing against his windpipe. He ignored them and sat against the mast, propping his swords up behind him and lacing his fingers behind his head. He kept his feet stretched out, though, one leg resting near the hatch to let her know under no uncertain circumstances what he would do for them. Otherwise he closed his eyes and let her be with herself.

After a moment the pressure of the fingers lifted and cool soft petals brushed over his skin here and there. He cracked open an eye and watched her. Her profile was to him as she watched the sea, one arm holding the other while she lightly balanced the cup on the railing.

"You don't really believe that, do you," she said.

"I do."

She glanced at him, harsh and cutting, annoyed as if she thought he was lying.

"If Luffy thinks you're worth saving than you are," he said.

"And of course you trust his judgment in everything."

"He knows what he knows," Zoro said, closing his eye again. She was quiet. She trusted Luffy, too. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be here. If she hadn't, he would be fending off her attack right now. She was quiet. The waves lapped against the side of the ship. It was so still he could hear Luffy snoring from down below. Pretty soon Usopp or Sanji would stir and hurl a pillow at him.

A moment later there was a muffled curse. The thwop of a pillow. Luffy snorting in his sleep and then:

"Oi, oi! Don't eat it, shitbrain!"

Robin laughed softly and even he had to smirk. What kind of idiot were they following? From below decks there was a quiet grunting and then a ragged sigh.

"Fine, take it, but don't eat it," Sanji said and Zoro knew he was stuffing the pillow under Luffy's head as if Luffy needed it— but that's just the kind of man Sanji was. There was the snick of a match and he shifted his leg aside as he heard movement on the ladder. The hatch opened and he could feel the curly brow staring at him.

"Can't you sleep in a bed, dumbass marimo?"

Zoro didn't bother to react.

"If you catch frostbite and die I'm going to laugh and then use you to preserve meats." A finger jabbed him in the calf and he was debating reacting to a foot to the cook's head.

"So Swordsman-san is useful even after death, isn't he?" Robin said with a soft laugh. "Though perhaps he'd be better as a table."

"Ah, Robin-chan! You're awake! Did you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine, Cook-san, but thank you. I was just about to finish my watch."

"Well it's my turn next so please allow me to spare you those few hours for your beauty sleep. Not that Robin-chwan really needs beauty sleep because she's already one of the most beautiful women in the world!"

Oh, please. Sanji was laying it on so thick even Zoro could choke on it. Crazy woman obsessed love cook.

"Mm. I think I'll take you up on that. Thank you."

"Anything for you! And please don't trouble yourself to return the cup to the galley in the morning. I would be most honored to collect it myself."

He just wanted an in to their room. It was a tactic that was transparent as hell, though he probably knew that. Zoro couldn't fault him for trying even though he could be annoyed at it.

"Mm. We'll see," Robin said, and it was obvious she was teasing. "Well then, goodnight, Cook-san."

"Sleep well, Robin-chwan!"

He heard Robin walking across deck and a door closing. Sanji breathed at him for a few seconds than went back down the ladder. Once he was gone, Zoro felt a cool hand on his shoulder. He wasn't sure what it meant exactly, but he tilted his head a little so that his earrings brushed against it. Almost immediately the hand disappeared.

The ladder creaked again, the hatch was closed and Zoro felt the weight of a blanket tossed over him even though it wasn't _that _cold. Then, as if to counteract that, Sanji stepped on his shoulder and used him to propel himself up the ladder of the mast. Bastard. Not that it hurt at all.

Quiet returned for a moment but high above Sanji began humming some sort of sea shanty. Below Luffy began snoring again and there was a soft thud as Chopper fell out of the hammock. From the girls' room he heard a quiet murmur of voices before it went still again.

Right now. In this moment. Everything was okay.

So Zoro shifted his weight and went to sleep.


	19. Encounter In Cannontown

**Encounter In Cannontown**

* * *

Ace, Thatch, and a few unavoidable decisions.

* * *

There was an arm over him. He wasn't sure whose it was other than the fact it was soft and a little further down, the breasts that accompanied the arms were pressed against his ribs. Ace blinked up at the ceiling, shafts of light slanting through the foamy lace curtains to poke at his eyes. There was the taste of booze lingering sticky on the back of his tongue. His stomach growled and he scratched it, abruptly aware he wasn't wearing any pants. Hmmm.

The owner of the breasts chuckled deeply and shifted on top of him. Ace automatically moved to support her hips and looked blearily into her face, crossed here and there by fine lines but pretty damn gorgeous. He faintly remembered her laughing and a lot of booze being involved—as well as some crab cakes.

"Hungry for more?" she asked, resting her chin on her fists and smiling down at him, the laugh lines around her eyes deepening.

"Yes, please," he muttered. More crab cakes would just about hit the spot. She laughed and dipped her head, pressing her mouth against his. Oh—well that was good, too. Whatever. Not as important as food but you couldn't just shove a lady off on her own bed no matter how hungry you were. She raised upward and he offered her a small smile, wondering how he could turn this back around to crab cakes when she pinched his nose between two fingers.

"Unfortunately for you, naughty beast, I have things to do today that don't include sending you to heaven."

"Damn," Ace said because it was expected and stretched out his arms, before tucking them behind his head. "I'll just have to remember what heaven was like." She giggled and for a moment her face opened up so he could see the lady underneath who was as majestic as she was still a kid at heart. He grinned back at her.

"Knock knock, here with company," said Thatch on the other side of the door. The woman…Sybaline her name was? Sat up and shook out her graying brown hair.

"Come in, company," she said brightly. The door opened revealing Thatch and two of Sybaline's cousins whose name Ace couldn't remember at the moment. Thatch was grinning; his pompadour listing to one side and making him look both rakish and ridiculous.

"Oh my, you three look ridiculous! Really, behave yourselves!" Sybaline said and laughed.

"I couldn't resist!" Thatch said with a shrug and the two women, giggled and clung to him like fancy frilly bookends. "How can a man around such beauty?"

"How can a woman around such ridiculous hair?" said one and flipped it. He laughed.

"Ah, stung!"

Man, Thatch could banter up a storm. If they kept going he might just take a nap to stave off the hunger that was starting to gnaw in his belly. Maybe he could wait for a break in conversation and somehow steer it to the notion of breakfast.

As it turned out, though, he didn't have to because Sybaline rose, tying her hair in a loose braid.

"All right, ladies, let's get breakfast prepared…" she trailed off giving them a significant look, raising her arched eyebrows. "And leave these pirates to their rest…"

"You're a peach," Thatch said, catching Ace's glance and winking. "A bunch of peaches."

They laughed in near unison and fluttered out into the other room together, trailing hair and

bedsheets behind them. Ace closed his eyes and basked in the stillness for a bit, feeling the bed shift as Thatch flopped on it and then rested his hot heavy head on Ace's stomach.

"You're either really good for business, Sparks, or so good you're bad," Thatch said. "I've been trying to get a matched set for months and you come in all charm and freckles and I'm up to my elbows in twins."

"You can owe me later."

Thatch laughed. It was becoming a long running joke. Nakama didn't really owe each other anything, especially not things like this. It wasn't even all that hard. All he ever had to do was grin and be interested in interesting people. Add Thatch, booze and crab cakes to the mix and sex was bound to happen. In the morning, though… Who really cared? It was all the same as it had been the night before.

He gazed up at the foamy curtains and absently wondered what Luffy was up to now. Probably fishing this time of day, or maybe hunting for anaconda nests down in that little valley. Hopefully he'd wait until the snake went away first. Rubber or not, he didn't like that little idiot trying to tackle that grumpy old anaconda on his own.

"Oh man," Thatch groaned, punching him lightly in the ribs. "I know that look. I can't believe you sometimes. You spend the night with _the_ hottest cougar in Cannontown and all you can think about is your kid brother."

"Cougars don't go near anaconda nests." He punched Thatch back. "Did I tell you that one time when-"

"Yes, you told me," Thatch said with a laugh. "Believe me if it's about Luffy, I've heard it."

Well so what? Ace clenched his teeth and pushed a breath through his nose. Luffy was interesting to talk about and it was his job as a big brother to keep him in his mind. And it was just because of that stupid anaconda anyway and Luffy being even dumber. It wasn't as if Dadan could beat the thing unconscious when it had a bellyful of rubber idiot. Maybe she could scowl at it. That ugly mug could convince anything to spit up its meal.

"Not that I mind hearing you going on and on about that kid, but we do have other things to worry about." Thatch's voice filtered into Ace's consciousness and he was back in the cozy bed with frilly curtains. He scratched his shin with the toes of his other foot then stretched out both feet with a yawn that brought tears to his eyes.

"They make traps really obvious in this town," Ace said. Which was annoying because he really didn't want to get up.

"Bah." Thatch waved a hand. "I mean we have to consider what happens when Marco catches up to us."

"Oh yeah," Ace said. That was the problem sneaking off ship for a little fun when there was a really strong anti-Whitebeard bias these days; Marco's feathers got in even more of a bunch than usual.

"I guess that depends how long Teach can hold it in."

"I give him ten minutes."

"Hoo, you're generous," Ace said, knocking Thatch lightly on the forehead. It didn't matter really. Marco was easily ruffled and easily soothed. Or if not soothed, seduced. That chicken was as easy as hot butter on a steaming crab cake. His stomach grumbled again. Damnit. He really just wanted breakfast. Was that so much to ask?

A door opened below and there was the sound of booted feet on hard wood.

"They're not here," Sybaline said, her voice trembling. Ace blinked. She was lying for them? In a marine town? Was she nuts?

"Move aside, ma'am," said a gruff voice in a tone that just set Ace's teeth on edge.

"I'm telling you," she said.

"And I'm telling you," gruff voice said. "Shift over or we'll shift you."

"Good old Syb-chan," Thatch said. "Better get a move on."

"Should we go the easy way or the hard way?" Ace said, making a finger pistol at the ceiling and letting the fire swip up his finger so that it danced and tugged in a fierce little blaze.

"Down, boy," Thatch said, but playfully as he rolled out of bed and combed his pompadour upright. "This whole town is made of wood. One wrong spark and you'll burn everything to the ground."

"Tch." They should have gone to another town. Thatch paced to the window as booted feet came up the stairs.

"Oh ho, looks like we're surrounded. Hello, boys!"

A pistol shot cracked against the side of the house and Ace bolted upright, throwing the covers

"Are you stupid?! Get away from there!"

"Relax, I've got glass between me and them," Thatch said. "And you don't have pants. Better fix that, Sparks."

The booted feet were now at the door and Ace scrambled to pull on his shorts and put on his hat at the same time. He could take down all of them if he wanted but Thatch could be shot all to hell. Just standing by the window like that, he had 'shoot me please I'm a vulnerable target' written all over him. Ace swallowed grabbed the metal doorknob, gripping it until it grew superheated in his hand and started to melt. Someone on the other side yelped.

"Kick it open if you have to!" gruff voice growled.

"Time to bail," Thatch said, drawing a sword and throwing open the window, twisting aside as a pistol cracked and the bed post exploded into splinters. Ace grabbed his satchel as the door began to shudder under the force of angry marines.

"After you?" Thatch said, gesturing. Ace hopped up on the ledge and onto the roof of the porch below, focusing on keeping his feet solid and human as the fire roiled from around his waist and up, swirling and blistering the heat around him. He felt the brush of wind as Thatch scrambled out the window and onto the roof behind him and met the bullets cracked in their direction, melting them before they could do any damage. Bastards. He wanted to send a wall of fire at them. To let go and set them all alight for even daring to-

"Let's go!" Thatch bellowed. Ace glanced at him, the words 'screw off' on his lips but Thatch was frowning in a look that said 'we run together'. Run? No. Thatch's frown deepened and then he grinned in a tight worried way. "Haha. Let's have fun, eh? It'll be a great chase."

It would probably be a better idea but—_but_—

"I don't run from anyone," Ace said, tilting his hat forward.

"Ace, come on, they're just grunts."

The door behind him splintered open.

"I don't care. They're destroying Syb-chan's house without caring." He punched his fist into his palm. "I'm going to kick their ass."

"Oh hell." There was a slip of metal as Thatch drew his other sword. "Just don't—"

It was too late, though. Ace knew he was going to do whatever it was that Thatch didn't want. So might as well get to it. If these Marine bastards wanted a fight, he would bring them one. Ace jumped down, blood and fire singing through his veins as the Marines scattered like mice. He kicked two out of his way, punched a third in the face. The sound of a battle charge filled the air and he whipped around to see a small pack of Marines running toward him with a net that must have been sea stone. Amateurs.

"Try shooting it next time," Ace said, shooting jets of fire from his fingertips like his own personal bullets. _Bang bang, bastards_. The net caught and blazed up, sending the Marines carrying it scampering for cover.

"Don't tell them how to defeat you, moron!" Thatch groaned and there was the pop of a pistol and the shriek of steel. Ace looked up to see Thatch tilting backwards, blood flicking across the outside wall.

"Thatch!"

"Not mine! Not mine! From the sword!" Thatch said, righting himself and twisting around to look at him. "Pay attention to your own fight, Sparks. Behind you!"

Ace jerked around to see another net flying toward him. He wrenched into a backflip, kicking fire from his feet to burn the net, bits of it flaked away and he clenched his teeth as he saw a burning portion flit over a roof. _Please go out. Please please_. A shot passed through him and hit the Marine behind him right in the chest. Ace turned again to see a commander, a smoking pistol in his hand. The commander scowled.

"Got your attention no-"

"BASTARD!" Ace punched him full in the face, feeling the man's nose snap under his fist. He hit him again and again, heat bubbling in his throat and wanting to burn through his hands, shoulders, neck— What kind of asshole just hit his own guys like that?! A cord snapped around his neck and all his strength went with it. Shit. Damn sea stone!

Just like that he was jerked back, landing hard on his back, snapping the back of his head onto the cobblestones so sparks jumped in his eyes. Scowling, Ace pulled at the cord but it was like he was drunk. His fingers wouldn't work the way they should. Above the ring of scowling Marine faces he saw Thatch fighting on the rooftop, swords flashing in the early morning light, another pistol shot drawing a line of blood across his cheek. Damnit. Ace tried to gather the strength to push himself up on his hands and kick the bastard holding him in the face but he could barely lift his hips off the ground. The commander's face appeared, blood dripping between the fingers that he clutched to his nose. Ace _grinned._

"Looks like you got a little messy."

The man kicked him in the ribs and it hurt like a bitch but he didn't unclench his teeth. Kept grinning even when the man pointed the pistol to his face. Something sung through the air and the commander cursed as the pistol ripped from his hand and was pinned against a gap in the cobbles by a familiar sword. Thatch followed shortly after, landing hard, his white clothes splattered with red as he pulled his sword from the ground and stood on either side of Ace, his hair blocking the sun.

"The next asshole that touches my brother is going to get gutted," Thatch said his voice glacial.

"Thatch, go," Ace said, scrabbling at the cord around his neck. "I can handle it—"

"No one is going anywhere," the commander said and there were pistols pointed in their direction, from the street, from the upper story window. Thatch's mouth set in a grim line. Ace snarled and grabbed at the cord and the guy holding it pulled sharply, making him gag. Thatch's blade flashed up and drew a thin line of red against the man's throat but stopped from going further as a pistol was put to his head. Thatch didn't even blink.

"You're really gunning for Pops to take you down, huh?" he said. Ace couldn't take his eyes off that pistol. If he could just—move enough he could knock Thatch out of the way and then…watch him be shot up by everyone else. Damnit. _Damnit._

"I don't see your "Pops" here," the commander said. "And maybe he'll rethink it when he sees your heads on the city wall. After we get our bounties, of course."

"You're assuming you'll have a wall left, yoi."

Ace looked up. There was Marco on the roof, crouching idly, face blank as ever but eyes like steel. Ace swallowed. They were in trouble. Others of the fourth division were on the roof, swords and spears and pistols aiming down at the Marines.

"Sir," one of the Marines said and Ace twisted his head to see some of his own division coming out of alleyways to ring the Marines and even Syb-chan was standing in her doorway, holding an antique saber that trembled. The Commander's hand was shaking, too, but the pistol was still locked to Thatch's temple.

"No matter what you do to us," the Commander said. "This bastard will still be dead."

"Don't bother with that idiot!" Ace snapped, trying to surge upward. "I'm second division commander I'm worth more!"

"Shut up, Ace," Thatch said.

"You wait your turn," the Commander said. "He knows I can kill you and I will. I don't mind dying."

"I wonder if you mind being obliterated then," Marco said, scratching his jaw. "When we get through, no one will even want to remember you existed. So if you still want a legacy to pass on to your children—" That word hung in the air as Marco stared down at him. "I suggest you back off." Ace clenched his jaw but his eyes were trained on that damned pistol and the Commander's trembling finger pressing against the side of the trigger. He waited on that shot. The roar that would— that would—

"S-sir," one of the Marines said. "Whitebeard's ship has been spotted off the harbor."

The Commander's shoulders slumped and he lowered the pistol. Ace closed his eyes as the cheering erupted around him. Those guys. Pops here. And he was on his back surrounded by Marines with nothing but a damn cord holding him down. Like he'd been collared.

"Round them up," Marco said. There was silence and then the soft clatter of dropped weapons and a few muttered curses by the Marines nearly drowned out by his nakama's laughter and cheers. He heard the slick of Thatch resheathing his swords.

"That was close," Thatch said. "I nearly saw a field of flowers."

Ace heard him shift, his shadow splashing cool over Ace's face. Warm calloused hands worked the cord free from his throat. The heat flowed back through his veins and he felt like he could finally take a real breath. He sucked in deeply and resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Thatch's neck. Not that Thatch would mind if he did, which was half the problem—the whole problem. He should mind. If Ace hadn't been so damn stubborn Thatch could have run. They both could have run. But he'd had to stick to his own stupid path no matter what and in the end he'd nearly gotten his nakama's head blown off.

"This is no time to sleep, Ace. Up and at 'em," Thatch said. Ace opened his eyes and glanced at Thatch's offered hand before taking it and allowing the taller man to haul him to his feet, his hat falling off in the process. Thatch grinned and placed it back on his head. "There we go. No harm done and a nice time for…all…." Because at that moment Marco hopped down behind them, his shoes clattering against the cobbles. Thatch stiffened and stared straight ahead, preparing himself, but winced anyway as Marco clapped him on the back of the head.

"I should kill you myself, yoi."

"Kill me, too, then. I went along with it," Ace said, feeling something bitter and hot well in his throat. He should force it down. He had been the one in the wrong after all. He shouldn't do this. He knew it and yet he could barely keep himself from seething as Marco turned his dark eyes on him.

"You, too. But Thatch knew exactly what he was getting into coming here."

"Haha yeah sorry about that," Thatch said, grinning sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't expect—"

"It doesn't matter," Ace said. "I still went along with it. So what? Just because there are Marines here we can't go wherever we want?" No. He hadn't meant. Well that wasn't the point of anything. He didn't care. Who cared if Marco got mad at him for saying shit and being a brat? Marco didn't say anything, though, just watched him with that same half lidded stare as if Ace should damn well know all the reasons and he wasn't going to be baited. Thatch sighed and dipped his head.

"Well anyway it probably wasn't a good idea to poke a stick in the hornet's nest. Even a small sting can kill, aye?"

"So don't do it," Marco said. "As for you, Ace…"

No. The hell he was hearing any 'as for you, Ace' s.

"As for _you_, Marco, next time you threaten a guy leave his kids out of it."

That got his attention. A furrow appeared between Marco's eyebrows and Ace watched his fingers twitch as if he was considering raising his hand to touch but thought better of it.

"I didn't mean—"

"I don't care what you meant," Ace said, getting a kind of twisted thrill in interrupting him. "Now if you guys don't mind I'm gonna go say goodbye to Syb-chan."

"Give the ladies my love!" Thatch said, raising a hand. Ace waved in acknowledgment and, as he turned, caught a glimpse of Marco rubbing his forehead. The sick thrill turned into guilt in a heartbeat and it was all Ace could do to not turn around. He kept going forward, though, toward Sybaline's house. Teach and a few others of his division were hanging out in the scant shadow of the balcony.

"Sorry about that, Ace," Teach said, scratching the side of his head with a deep frown. "I tried to not say anything but—"

"Nah, don't worry about it." He clapped Teach on the shoulder. "You did good, kid." A joke between them since Teach had been there longer than him. The man grinned and winked at him and Ace smiled back. "Anyway, don't wait up. I'll catch up with you guys later." And with a final wave he knocked on the door before stepping into the house. It smelled like the ozone of pistol fire and there were muddy boot tracks all over the floor. Sybaline and her cousins, May and Kay, maybe? Were sitting at their small kitchen table, the saber between them. They looked up pale when he came in and he was about to leave when Sybaline's face smoothed and a wavery smile crossed her full lips.

"I'm glad you're safe."

"Ah, you shouldn't have worried." Ace bowed deeply. "Thanks for your hospitality and sorry for the trouble. I'd be happy to pay for any damages…"

"Oh no. No, please. You see…you see we're bounty hunters, we three."

"Yeah, we knew that the moment we met you," Ace said with a faint grin as he rose. "Gotta admit you guys were a trap impossible to resist."

"No, no, Ace-chan. That part wasn't a trap," Sybaline said, sitting back and flipping a strand of hair over her shoulder. "We rarely mix business with pleasure but when we do we make sure it's good."

"Very good," Kay said and May giggled. Ace had to admit they were taking this whole thing really well. Sybaline gestured to an empty chair and he sat because it would be rude not to. It wasn't so bad sitting here, though, even though he really shouldn't be. No point to start behaving now. Anyway—these ladies—

"Won't you be in trouble?" Ace asked. "Do you need help?"

"No. Well…not exactly," Sybaline said. "After all, he has no proof we did anything wrong, and the Commander has never been popular around here."

"We made sure of that," Kay said.

"He's an asshole," May added. "Thinks he can throw his weight around just because he was assigned here. You guys were going to be a brass tack on his wall but we decided—"

"Yes, that's _enough_, May," Sybaline said before turning her smile at Ace and spreading her hands wide. "Anyway we are bounty hunters you are pirates, so it's just natural we hunt you. But we are also women so it is just as natural that we change our minds whenever we want."

"Then I'm in your debt and glad you did," Ace said with a grin. "You tired me out so much I wouldn't have been able to fight you off. I've always been weak to the gorgeous ones…" He winked and saluted her. "On the other hand I'd have died without a single regret."

She flushed red and laughed behind her hand, flapping her other hand at him.

"Now you stop that! Goodness, I haven't blushed this much in ages." She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

"This is no fair at all," Kay said and gave Ace a wide grin of her own. "Can you stay around for supper?"

"Can you stay around forever?" May said with a matching grin. Twins, huh? He could see the appeal.

"I don't know about forever, ladies. But supper sounds good." And then as innocently as he could: "Will there be crab cakes?"

—

The sun was a red blister in the sky by the time he finally was able to peel himself away from the ladies. He was stuffed to the gills with crab cakes and even had some wrapped in a bento to carry back to Thatch who was probably holed up in one of the local bars and hitting on every lady in earshot. May and Kay watched him from the bullet riddled upper window, giggling to one another and waving at him. Syb-chan smiled up at him from the doorway, twisting her ring absently between her fingers. It was a man's ring, a memento from a beloved fiancé who had been killed by asshole pirates before Pops had moved into the area. She'd cried a lot when she'd put it back on and there were still faint lines in her eyes.

"You will take care of yourself, won't you?" she said.

"Yes ma'am," Ace said, touching his hat to make her smile. She did and rubbed her eye with the back of her hand before blinking rapidly and sniffing.

"Now then, if there's anything we can do for you…"

He was about to say no, but a thought occurred to him. It wasn't likely to happen but…

"Well in a year or so, there's a chance my little brother might come sailing this way."

"Is he cute?" May called.

"Let me at him," Kay said.

"If you can manage anything like that, I really don't want to know about it," Ace said, lifting his hands. It was not worth the mental trauma to even contemplate Luffy and sex in the same sentence. He shuddered just thinking about it. Syb-chan laughed and patted his arm.

"Don't worry; I'll fend off the beasts. What shall I do if I meet him?"

"Put him up? Give him some crab cakes? … A lot of crab cakes."

"I'd be honored, Ace-chan. What does he look like?"

"Short, black haired, usually has a big stupid smile," and he wasn't grinning just thinking about it. Well, maybe a little. "Oh and he'll probably be wearing a straw hat."

"Like Redhair Shanks used to?" May asked.

"Ooooh," Kay said. Ace couldn't help but flat line a bit. Well, okay, Shanks _was_ a yonkou but…really?

"Don't worry,"Syb-chan said. "He was immune to their…charms."

"And yours?" Ace said with a grin though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that. Syb-chan smiled.

"A lady never reveals her secrets." She leaned up and pecked his cheek, the faint smell of honeysuckle filling the air. "But if I see your little brother, I'll be sure to stuff him so full with crab cakes they'll have to roll him down the street." Ace laughed faintly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well… Do your best anyway." He tipped his hat again and waved at the two women in the window. "Take care, ladies! See you around." To Sybaline he bowed. "Thanks for the food and the…nourishment." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Get going, you." She flapped her hands. "And good luck."

"Thanks."

He waved once more and then started down the street. The stars were starting to come out and a fresh breeze blew up from the sea, bringing with it the faint sounds of singing and laughter, which only got louder as he got nearer. Now that the Marines had been…hold up somewhere. Nakama had come in to fill the gaps, especially near the entertainment district. They were spilling out of doorways, laughing, flirting with women or each other, reeling drunkenly from one tavern to the next and greeting him along the way, trying to pull him into one bar or another. He laughingly resisted because he'd had his fill of this town and they were happy enough to let him go without fight. His skiff was tied up by the docks where he'd left it and he half expected to see someone waiting for him. No one was around. Not even Namur though he tried to peer through the dark water just in case.

The Moby Dick sat just in the sheltered waters of the bay, sails furled but flag drifting in the breeze. Ace felt a surge of pride, aware of the mark on his back. A mark he could never turn away from because it always followed him. Whitebeard. Pops. The greatest man on the sea. Ace wanted to see him and…didn't. Half wanted to hop on Striker and sail somewhere different for a few days. A week maybe. Flirt some. Eat some. But that was too much like running away. He might as well face up to the music he'd started. He took off Striker's mooring rope and hopped on, shoving his hands into his pockets as he fired her up and sped toward the Moby Dick, the wind tangling through his bangs. A school of dolphins began to jump around him and he played with them a while, leading them in circles and figure 8s. Finally, though, even they tired and drifted away and he continued to the ship.

He took a deep breath before mooring Striker to the side, knowing that someone would take care of her later, and moving up the ladder. The deck was practically empty. A few guys from the third division were playing some kind of gambling game with Vista and losing badly by the sound of it. He waved to them and hurried off to find Pops before they could ask him to join. He was hard to miss. He was sitting in his great chair on deck, snoozing lightly with his head to the side. Ace couldn't help but watch him, remembering all the times he'd wanted to kill him, remembering when he'd started to love him instead. When he finally felt like he'd belonged.

"Heard you had quite a ruckus today," Pops said, his low voice rolling through the air and making Ace feel better in spite of himself. He should bow. He should get on his hands and knees and apologize for messing things up. But when Pops crooked a finger, all Ace could do was cross the distance to hop up and sit beside his leg, tucking his own up against his chest and looking out over the deck.

"Sorry about that," he said, wincing at how paltry it sounded. _Come on, you can do better than that!_

"All's well that ends well. You boys are safe, the rest of my sons are having a great time…" he hesitated. "And we needed to head out here anyway."

"You're a horrible liar, Pops."

"Gurarara Maybe so." A finger knocked off Ace's hat and ruffled his hair. It felt good. Warm. Accepting. Despite everything he'd done. Everything that had happened and making them go out of their way… "Stop fretting, Ace. It was barely any trouble and Thatch was rowing the same boat, if I recall."

"He wouldn't have gone without me, though." He leaned against Pops' leg, letting his arms drape over and rested his chin against it. It was so solid underneath him. Sturdy. Unmovable except when Pops decided to go and then _nothing_ could stop him.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He's been wanting to tweak the Marines' nose on a personal level for a while now. You probably kept him from being jailed or worse."

"Without me, he would have run," Ace said, feeling that bitterness in the back of his throat again.

"Without you he wouldn't have enjoyed himself half as much. If you can't stop someone you might as well make sure they enjoy themselves!"

Ace laughed in-spite of himself.

"Marco would kill you if he heard you say that!"

Pops just laughed, the booming sound rolling and echoing over the waves. It dissolved into coughing though and Ace closed his eyes, trying not to frown as the sturdy leg shuddered underneath him. He pressed his palm flat against Pops' leg, wishing he could transfer some of his life force into the…old man. The great man. The man who would become pirate king and change the world.

"Let's," Pops started then cleared his throat and coughed again. "Let's keep that between us, shall we?"

"Does that mean the pineapple is coming in earshot?"

"…Could be."

Ace reluctantly lifted his head and saw Marco leap from the crow's nest in phoenix form, swirling downward, spreading blue and gold flames against the twilight as he went. Damned showoff. Ace should probably make up to him, though. He nudged off his boots and moved to stand on Pops' leg, holding up an arm as Marco came closer and whistling low.

"Here, pretty bird. Here." He made a little chirp sound. "Step up."

Marco claw kicked him in the head. Ace nearly lost his balance but Pops pushed him back into place with a finger, laughing. Marco flew to perch on Pops' other leg, glowering at him and ruffling his feathers so that he looked like a puff-ball of blue sparkles.

"Now, now, Marco, don't pout," Pops said, rubbing Marco's feathery back with a finger.

"I'm not pouting, yoi," the phoenix said, seeming to fluff up even more. He was an even worse liar than pops. Only one way to fix that. Ace set his hat to the side and tackled him head-on, sending them both crashing to the deck. Marco let out an undignified squawk and flailed, beating at Ace's head with bright blue wings. Ace just grinned and cuddled Marco close, rubbing his cheek against the bird's chest.

"I was a jerk. Forgive me?"

"You think one hug is really going to solve everything?" Marco said, pecking him on the head. But it was so light; Ace already knew he'd won.

"Yes."

Marco huffed but didn't argue. Ace grinned. Stupid chicken. Pops cleared his throat again.

"You boys run off and play. I'm going to—"

"Go to bed early," Marco said. "And get plenty of rest."

"…exactly that," Pops said. If he lied any harder his hair would turn blue.

"And not drink any sake before you do," Marco said.

"Naturally."

"Pops…" Marco said in a warning tone. Ace stood, holding Marco against his chest.

"Come on, matey. Let's go make up with his Thatchness."

And started walking before the first mate could complain. Marco huffed and huffed again, fluffing his feathers and eventually squirmed to hop up to perch on Ace's shoulder, seeming for a moment to want take off and go after Pops. Not that Ace would blame him but… Marco seemed to change his mind, though and settled, his claws resting warm on Ace's shoulder, which he took up most of. The blue fire was nearly blinding, but Ace felt something start to unwind in him. He bumped Marco with his cheek in thanks and the phoenix nuzzled his hair. Heh. Marco really shouldn't be that easy with him...

Ace tried to put that from his mind and focused on finding Thatch. He wasn't usual haunts and there was neither hide nor pompadour of him anywhere. Had he decided to stay in town after all? As Ace was exploring starboard side, he came across Teach, though who was sitting by the railing and munching on a pie. As Ace approached Teach gave him an odd look, glancing at him and then Marco who had set about preening his feathers. Ace didn't get Teach's look, but then guessed not even long standing Whitebeards could tell if Marco was actually a man or a bird.

"Seen Thatch anywhere?"

"Aft I think," Teach said, wiping away some crumbs with the back of his hand.

"Thanks, matey."

"By the way," Teach said as Ace passed him and he pivoted to look at him without being blinded by feathers. Teach had gone to staring out over the water. "I always thought you'd look good with a bird."

Ace raised an eyebrow. What the _hell_ did he mean by that? He glanced at Marco who gave a little birdy shrug. Helpful. Ah, it was probably nothing. Teach had always seemed the tiniest bit…off.

"Thanks…I guess…"

"Don't let it go to your head," Teach said, giving him a fierce splintered grin.

"No…well I wouldn't carry one around anyway…birds shit everywhere."

"Isn't that right? Zehahahaha!"

"Hilarious, yoi," Marco said. "You're really making me reconsider strangling you."

"Didn't know you felt that way. I'm touched," Teach said before Ace could. Marco blinked and for the first time seemed blank only because he had no idea what the hell to say. Ace was caught between wanting to apologize to Marco because—well he'd meant regular birds, and find a way to extricate them all from… this awkward… after all Teach was nakama so it should…all fit together.

"You will be touched if Marco strangles you. Hahaha" Yeah. No. Okay that hadn't worked.

"Heh, yeah I guess so," Teach said, scratching his hair. Another ruffling silence. Ace wanted to either leave or sink into the deck. This was ridiculous. He was Teach's commander _and _the guy had probably saved their asses. So it was up to him to make this less…awkward…somehow…

"Would you like a crab cake?" Ace asked, bordering on desperate.

"No I hate those damn things."

"Well, that's too bad," he scratched his cheek. "I'd make you a pie but I'd probably burn the kitchen down. Heh." Why the hell was he talking about making Teach pies now? Not that he'd really mind it if he could but—it was like awkward was the sea and he was drowning in it. He glanced to Marco for help but the always helpful first mate had gone back to complete deadpan, as if he was just annoyed at them for existing.

"Didn't know you made pies," Teach said and Ace dropped his head. Why. Just…why…

"No, I…don't. But I can make frog on a stick…"

"Hate those, too."

"Oh…"

Another quiet. He just wanted to see Thatch. That was the most he wanted from his life right now. What the hell was tonight?

"You're really pathetic," Marco said.

"You know you can step in at any time," Ace snapped.

"Who me? I'm just a shitty bird."

"You're going to be a dead bird in a minute."

"Zehahahaha Threatening the first mate? Isn't it a little late in the day to be planning a mutiny?"

"And just what the _fuck _is that supposed to mean?" Ace snapped, fire raging through him in an instant. Was he even _suggesting _that—

"Cool it," Marco said, flapping a wing in front of his face. Ace reared back instinctively, clenching his teeth.

"It was just a joke," Teach said, holding up his hands, a bead of sweat trailing down his face. "I didn't anything by it."

"It was a shitty joke and if you _ever_ say something like that again—"

"Ace—" Marco's claws dug into his shoulder, a faint warning. "Cool it, yoi," he said, but softer. Ace realized that his fists were on fire and the heat was starting to build up his arms. It took sheer effort to make his fingers become normal again and even then sparks were fizzing off the edge of his fingernails.

"Sorry. Forgot you had a temper," Teach said.

"Stop trying to provoke it, Teach," Marco said cooly. "And show a little more respect to your commander by not messing with his hot head," Marco's voice seemed to soften by the end of that, too and he fanned Ace's head with a wing, blowing his bangs into his face. It helped a little but now Ace just felt like a dumbass for blowing up like that. Teach's sheepish smile fell into something like dull shock, but it was instantly replaced by a grin.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I just see you guys do it all the time so I thought I'd give it a shot. Guess I just have bad timing all around."

Ah damn. Now he felt even worse. The only thing worse than not fitting in was to have to admit that you didn't.

"No, it's nothing," Ace said, holding up his hands. "Just a bad day so I'm kind of on a short fuse." He rubbed the back of his neck and bowed his head a little. "Thanks for saving our asses by the way."

"Any time," Teach said, devouring the last of the pie and getting to his feet. "See you around!" and he trudged away, whistling some old sea shanty. Ace puffed out a breath and rubbed his forehead. _That _could have gone better. Marco must think he was a complete hot head by now. Rash. Reckless. Turning on his nakama for a little careless joke. He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall, watching Teach out of the corner of his eye until he drifted into the mess.

"Worried?" Marco asked.

"A bit." It was hard to admit that, too. But he wasn't looking for Marco to tell him everything was okay and that he'd done his best or any bullshit like that.

"Don't be." Marco rested his slight feathery head against Ace's, blue flaring warmth drifting through his hair and over his neck. "I want to strangle you all the time."

Ace snorted a laugh and reached up to stroke his neck.

"Yeah but you never get…that pissed at us. No matter how much we screw up."

"Wanna bet?" Marco said and he gave a sigh, feathers ruffling and unruffling. "Granted the only time I'm really that pissed is when you screw up by going to a town" Marco pecked his head. "Infested by Marines" peck. "Alone." Peck peck. "In the middle of the night" peck. Peck. Peck! "Without even leaving a message!" _Peck!_

_"_All right, all right, I get it," Ace said with a laugh, pushing Marco's head away.

"Do you?" Not a trace of belief in his voice.

"Absolutely."

"Good."

"Next time I'll leave you a note."

"…That's it."

And suddenly the weight of a bird was replaced by the arms of a six foot tall angry pineapple attempting to strangle him— but Ace was laughing even as Marco's knuckles ran hard over his scalp. He backed up, slamming Marco hard against the wall and jerking his head back to crash against Marco's nose. Marco cursed and kicked the back of Ace's leg and he fell but made sure to take the first mate with him, biting his arm before realizing that was completely useless and then giving it a sloppy lick instead. Marco yelped.

"Blech! Stop that!"

"Never!" and he gave him another lick, this one even wetter than the last.

"What are you guys starting the party without me?"

Ace looked up to see Thatch coming toward them with Namur close behind. The fourth division commander's face was pocked here and there with annoyed beak cuts that he wasn't fortunate enough to heal. Still he was grinning wide enough to be already over it. Or maybe, Ace _grinned_. Maybe not quite.

"Sorry, mate. But I saved you some if you'd like to try."

"Don't you dare, Thatch," Marco said, squirming to get out from under Ace who just moved back to keep him firmly in place.

"I think I will."

"I'll kill you, yoi!"

"Aw, I love it when you talk sweet, you big lug," Thatch said, grabbing Marco's face and giving him a big wet lick up his cheek.

"You're the lug! Ace, get off!"

"You guys're weird," Namur said, tapping his fingertips together and looking interested in spite of himself.

"It's a human tradition," Ace said.

"It is not!" Marco snapped.

"Don't listen to him. Want a lick in?" Ace said with an even wider grin.

"Does he taste like fish?"

"No, but I'll give you some crab cakes."

"Ooh, Syb-chan _liked_ you," Thatch said.

"Are they _good_ crab cakes?" Namur said, rubbing his chin.

"Best in existence," Thatch said.

"Okay."

"Go ahead, yoi. Do it. I'm prepared." Marco's deadpan was back but his face looked a little more deadpan than usual as if he was fighting to keep it that way. Ace was impressed that he kept it even when Namur's tongue covered half of his face and some of his hair which got swept to the side to make him look like kind of a windswept pineapple.

"Now what," Namur said uncertainly, still crouching beside them.

"Now we officially declare most honored first mate well and soundly licked," Thatch said. Ace raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well yeah we just licked him."

"I know. It's a pun," Thatch said, giving him a flat look. Ace glanced at Namur who shrugged.

"I got it, yoi," Marco said.

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Too bad. Yer jokes stink," Namur said. "When in doubt, throw in a squid. Can we have crab cakes now?"

"Yeah sure," Ace said, shifting and swinging his satchel around so he could break out the bento. Ah and it was still warm. He unwrapped it and inhaled the scent of delicious crab cakes. Ahhh. There was nothing better in the world.

"You know one day I'll find guys who appreciate my amazingly subtle sense of humor," Thatch said.

"They exist?" Marco said.

"Listen you…you,_ turkey_—"

"Shut up and eat," Ace said, stuff Thatch's open mouth with two crab cakes. Thatch glowered at him and then his expression melted into the sheer bliss that was Syb-chan's crab cakes and he shrugged helplessly, relaxing against the wall as he ate. Marco's hand snaked over Ace's shoulder and grabbed two for himself, his breath hot for a moment against Ace's ear.

"Throw one fer me," Namur said. "I like 'em when they're movin'."

"Sure thing," Ace said, tossing one a little high over Namur's head. The fishman lurched up and snapped for it a few times, his powerful teeth clacking like a bear trap before he finally got it and chewed happily, a flush appearing on his cheeks.

"Amazin'!

"Right?" Ace picked up a steaming, slightly greasy crab cake for himself and kissed it reverently. "Thank you, Syb-chan." And he popped it in his mouth, letting the taste spread over his tongue before chewing enthusiastically.

"You know, there's this really hot blond on Cape Maul Island," Thatch said. "Said to make the best canapés on the whole island, even better than Syb-chan's crab cakes."

"… please do not tell me you went to this island just for the food," Marco said.

"I'd likea good canapé," Namur said.

"We are not going into a Marine _base_ just for canapés, yoi."

"Well maybe you're not."

"Thatch, I will canapé you myself—"

"I'll come with ya."

"Na-chan, you're a Fishman among Fishmen."

"Stop talking about this like it's going to happen. Because it's no—"

"Let's all go," Ace said, around a mouthful of crab cake. "If this guy complains we'll just birdnap him." He didn't know what a canopee was. It didn't sound tasty but Thatch usually knew what he was doing. Usually. And whether they went or not it was worth agreeing just to torment Marco.

"I do gotta bag I ain't been usin'," Namur said.

"Just try it," Marco said. "I'll-"

"I've got some sunflower seeds I can use as bait," Thatch said, rubbing his chin.

"I'm not really a bird – Wait, you do?"

Ace could practically hear Thatch's grin and Marco's sweating face as he tried to resist the lure of tasty sunflower seeds. These guys were all complete idiots. He tossed another crab cake for Namur and then leaned back, resting his head on Marco's shoulder and looking at the stars. Somewhere along the way, he'd gotten really lucky. He hoped Luffy got just as lucky when he set out. No, more so. He'd need it. Need people to take care of him and feed him and follow him happily as he got them into trouble.

"I'll think about it," Marco said, and Ace glanced up at him, sliding another crab cake between his teeth. A warm butter smile slid across the first mate's face. "I'm glad you're comfortable, yoi. But I have to go check on the others soon so don't fall asle—


	20. Blue Horizon

**Blue Horizon**

* * *

This is a song highly based around the Movie Z Marine song. You can find it on youtube just by using that term and if you want to get the full impact, you should listen before you start! Even if not, it's beautiful so it's worth a listen anyway.

* * *

The afternoon sunlight shone harsh through the narrow dirty window. Below and out of site, the port town crawled with life. The caws of market vendors, the dulcet tones of pretty serving girls leaving sea weary sailors into taverns and restaurants. Pirates were bold here and marines just occupied a scrubby little broken glass outpost on the far side of the island, taking money from the local crime boss in a way that made Garp want to send them all flying with an uppercut. Fortunately, from where he sat, all he could see was the glimmering sea, pricks of sun dancing on the wavelets, stretching out to a sharp blue horizon, dotted with clouds. He'd like to be out on her and would be soon, but it wouldn't be to enjoy the fresh salt tinged wind in his face or watch the wake break before the sleek bow of his ship.

Garp sighed, scraping the last of the stew from the bowl and setting the dented spoon on the scarred table. Then he rested his chin on his fist and stared out at the sea. Despite anything anyone might say, particularly behind his back, he was a careful man, a thinking man. One had to be if one wanted to advance in his line of work. Oh, rookies thought it was all following orders until you did good enough to give them; but it was more complicated than that. Orders were not just one time barks across canon strewn decks that were forgotten as soon as the battle was over; they rippled. They changed the currents of the world, from one place to another. It was a delicate balancing act, knowing when to charge forward, knowing when to pull back, knowing when to follow…and…knowing when to break.

He scratched at his beard and watched a little merchant ship, a fast little clipper ship, dancing her way out of port, tangerine dolphins in her wake and a mail bird winging its way from the crow's nest for parts unknown. There were probably new wanted posters. He'd lived his life by those damn things, determined to bring every pirate he'd met to the swift fist of justice. He'd lived for justice and he fully intended to die for it. For the black words on a white coat, a fist flying straight and true without hesitation—no matter what his son had to say on the matter. Despite him, or maybe because of him, Garp had had a flawless career. Not a single stain and then…

…and then that guy…

That bastard Roger. Garp had chased him up one sea and down another. It had been fun at first. There had been glorious battles. Heartstopping battles. Battles in which he was sure one or both of them would surely die. Still he'd never felt more alive than when he was hurling cannon balls at that proud ship, hearing Roger's careless devil's laugh and thinking it would be this time, this time. And what did that bastard do? Allowed himself to get caught and asked him a favor. Him a favor! The man that had wanting nothing but to see him in chains. The gall of that guy…that Garp couldn't help but admire…

He should have known that Roger wouldn't let him go that easily. Wouldn't let the world go that easily. The man's grip was still tight on the throat of the world, however long dead he might be. Even tighter on Garp, practically strangling him with a duty he never intended to have. A squeaking whine came from the basket at his feet, heralding a full blown storm if he didn't take care of it. Garp hesitated a moment, then plucked the small warm bundle from his nest of blankets. The baby blinked at him with large dark eyes, a chubby hand fisting near his face. Garp tucked him into the crook of one arm and ran a knuckle down one soft freckled cheek. The boy made another squeaky sound that made Garp chuckle inspite of himself, and twisted his head toward the knuckle, opening his mouth like a small pink fish. Garp tickled his lips and let him suck on his finger, one tiny hand wrapping around it. He would need a bottle soon or everyone would know he was up here.

"Already planning on getting me in trouble, eh?" he murmured. The baby had nothing to say to that and just looked at him with half closed, contented eyes. He was the key, of course. The key that would loosen Roger's grip on the world and everything. This little soft boy, both too old and too soft at the same time could ruin this 'new pirate age' before it even began. And if Garp was the Marine he should be, if he kept following Justice as he had all his life, he would let this boy change the world. It wouldn't happen right away, not even a month or a year from now; but all it would take was Garp doing his duty and even the strongest pirate would go to jelly. They would know without a doubt that their was no one safe. Not their family at home. Not their mothers. Fathers. Spouses. Children. All would be crushed mercilessly by the weight of their sin. Smashed beneath the rocks of Justice.

Harsh as it was, even the snuffing of this small life, so warm and light in his arms, would save so many— and destroy so many. What were the ends that were meant to justify the means of murder? No. Execution. A gull cried outside, shadow swooping past the wall and the baby's eyes shifted toward it. The gull was gone but the brilliant sea remained and the baby seemed transfixed, dark eyes wide. Garp watched him watching the sea and couldn't help but grin as Ace reached for it, his small hands opening and closing. 'Gimmie gimmie'

"All right, brat," Garp said, opening the window and setting Ace on the sill, one broad hand covering his stomach and chest. Ace gripped his hand with both of his and leaned foward, a salt wind stirring the dark curls of his hair. Garp chuckled and rested his chin on that sleep warmed head and looked out at the sea himself and the forest of masts just below. A ship's bell tolled somewhere and Garp took a deep breath in through his nose, smelling salt and sea and fish and baby. A gull cried again, out of sight and Ace lifted up both hands, flat as if he was trying to grab the ocean between them.

"The ocean knows the beginning of the world,"Garp sang softly under his breath, the song beginning to hum through his viens just at that line. Ace twitched back at him as if he was interested.

"The ocean knows the end of the world," Garp continued and began to sway Ace back and forth as he sang, like the lullabye it was. "This it calls us towards the way we must take. Thus, it leads us toward a just world."

He trailed off. A just world where this baby. This tiny child who'd done nothing at all, would be made an example of just because he happened to be born. Garp's teeth closed and the song died in his throat. That wasn't justice. How was it justice? How could it have come to that?

"Somehow it got broken," he murmured, partly to Ace who had twisted around and was looking at him, sucking his thumb, his eyes still full of the sea. "What do you think, baby face? How are we going to fix it?"

"Blee," Ace said, reaching up and tugging at Garp's beard. "Arbubu."

"You're right. It's unfixable." And then, just like that. He knew. The answer was so simple. "We'll have to make a new justice. What do you say to that?"

"Blee!" Ace said, throwing his hands in the air, as if agreeing. No one said Ace had to live a pointless life, no matter who his father was. He could be a Marine. The new generation. Justice would ride on his small fists. Overcome by a surge of hope, Garp grinned and swept Ace up into the air, tossing him to hear his squeal of laughter, the song once more bubbling to his lips.

"Enveloping pain and suffering, greatly and kindly wrapping them up."He gave Ace a tight squeeze and threw him again and waltzed with him around the room. "The ocean knows the beginning of the world, the ocean knows the end of the world…"

—

—

They had let him through as he known they would. Despite everything there was honor. Among these anyway. So they had let him through and for the moment, he was alone. Dangerously alone, but somehow he felt comforted. Even as the white and orange blurred in front of his eyes. He reached out a faintly shaking hand, feeling singed and tired, too tired, like a hammer tossed into the sea. Nothing…had turned out like he had planned. Nothing… those brats just went ahead and did whatever the hell they wanted and— and damned if Garp wasn't proud of them.

"Look how it ended you idiot," he growled under his breath, resting his fingers against the cool stone. "Is this what you wanted?" But yes. Yes it was. Not in so many words but he had died with a smile. Died—being loved— Which was what this brat had always wanted even though Garp always had. The little idiot. Loved him since he was born even by all rights he shouldn't've. How had he missed him growing up? Who was that brash man who had defied the world? Who had saved Luffy's life at the cost of his own? Garp wasn't sure he knew, but in the end, it didn't matter, he loved him all the same.

A gull swooped past. No. Albatross. Catching the wind and going high until it was lost in the dazzling blue and over the ocean. Garp smirked and shook his head. Idiot. Moron.

"The ocean knows the beginning of the world," he sang softly, shakily. "The ocean knows the end of the world.

Even if I—" he cleared his throat. "I were to disappear. The all-knowing ocean leads the way.

I must not fear…because you are here…" He clenched his hand into a fist, teeth pressed so hard together he thought they'd break, wet running warm down his face. "I must not be timid because my— my nakama wait for me." And they'd be there for him. Ace had found nakama. Leave to him to find the worst people possible. The best people possible. Even though it was because of them, because of Ace's love of them, that justice had crushed him in the end. Still the old justice. The broken justice for a broken world. But he would keep trying for a new world. Him and his apprentices, Coby getting stronger by the day and Helmeppo not far behind. Smoker… Hina… all of them would keep moving forward.

Garp stood straight and wiped his eyes with the the sleeve of his jacket before standing, almost at attention so he could see Ace's grave clearly, Newgate's right beside his, coat fluttering in the strong sea breeze. He sang the last line loud and clear, clear enough for even those damn Whitebeards to hear.

"We must advance towards the blue horizon."

And then he turned on his heel and walked back to the harbor, his shoulders straight, back to the nakama who waited for him and the horizon just beyond.


	21. Enough

**Enough**

* * *

A short one-sided Zoro to Sanji set after Little Garden but before Drum.

What's a little fire to eyes so blue?

* * *

Sanji's hands were always his favorite part. The most precious part of him and the most talented. He hadn't watched them much, doing other things when they were at their best, creating something in the kitchen, stirring this, pinching that, doing inexplicable things to other things to somehow or another create a meal. But he'd seen his fingers splayed as he balanced a tray with utter stillness on a shifting deck. He'd seen the way his fingers had curled around a cigarette, pinching when he was being cool, gripping when he was stressed and loose when he was feeling all right with the world and no one was watching, just pulling the tie away from his throat with the pale fingers of the other hand and letting the sea breeze push against his face and slide down his shirt. Zoro had never been so fucking envious of wind before.

"Got a staring problem, asshole?" Sanji asked.

"Tch," Zoro replied, closing his eye again. Maybe he did but he wasn't about to admit it. That just lead to problems he didn't want. Anyway, he wasn't the kind of guy to chase after impossible dreams. He could hear Sanji move toward him across the deck, his shoes tapping out the rhythm of: 'I'm gonna start some shit and there's nothing you can do about it'.

Zoro considered faking a snore.

But he wasn't that much of a coward. So he just pretended he didn't notice when that foot nudged him in the ribs. And it was just a nudge. Not even a bracing kick.

"Just sleeping, Marimo?" Another nudge. Just a nudge. Barely even a fucking tickle. "Bastard. If you're going to stare at a guy the least you can do is give him a good fight."

"You're not worth my time."

That kick sent him sprawling halfway across the deck and crashing into Usopp who yelped and there was a small puff and displacement of air. Zoro didn't much care as his hand flew to Wado, only to realize it wasn't there but back where he'd propped it up against the railing.

"What the hell is your problem!" he snapped, curling his hands into fists. Sanji smirked and pinched his cigarette, bracing his long legs and blowing a stream of smoke in his direction.

"If it's not worth your time then it shouldn't matter, shitty marimo."

"You're _not_ worth it," Zoro said, folding his arms, not to be bested by this asshole.

"What did you say?!"

"Fire." Usopp said, or something like that.

"Going deaf, too? I said-"

"Fire. FIRE!" Usopp shouted, bumping into Zoro again and curling around him. There was a soft sound like a fwoom and Zoro felt the scalding heat against the back of his neck and saw Sanji's eye grow wide. It was really blue.

"Zoro!" Usopp called.

"ZORO!" Luffy bellowed and Zoro saw him through a haze of heat jumping down. What- and then he saw a black blur coming at his midsection before it smashed into his midsection, leaving him breathless with a single gasp. He felt himself break through the railing and then he hit the sea which felt like breaking glass.

And down

and down

and down.

The sunlight played on the ripples of the water. He could see the hull of the Merry, cutting her way through the sea, moving under a strong wind. Here and there he could see patches in the wood. Merry was a strong little ship.

And oh shit he was sinking too fast. Better start up. He frogged his way upward, keeping his mouth screwed shut as his lungs grew desperate for air. They could shut the hell up. There wasn't air to be had yet. And he wasn't going to get any until it reached the surface. Even as dark was gathering at the edges of his vision.

Oh shit. Fuck. Damn. No. Not going to drown. Stupid ass way for a swordsman to die. Mouth closed and frogging upward as fast as he could. Throat scratching. Lungs fighting to suck in.

Something plunged under the surface of the blue, spreading bubbles, but so far away, almost as far as the surface. A fist settled in his lungs and suddenly Sanji was there, hair moving like the wavy tendrils of a blond jellyfish, revealing glimpses of his ridiculous eyebrows. Like hell Zoro was going to be saved by him and he was about to say so but opening his mouth just brought the seawater in and he gagged as everything went dark.

* * *

_Moron_

yeah, yeah he knew that already.

_Stupid asshole_

OI, that was a little

_Shitty _Marimo!"

A hand stung his back and Zoro heaved, spewing warm seawater into the ocean around him only to get it right back against his neck and it wasn't all seawater. Still the only thing he could do was cough, and gasp for breath, air clawing against his throat as he coughed again.

"What kind of idiot are you," Sanji said, hooking one of his thin arms around Zoro's shoulders and easing him back. It was an orange shirt, Zoro realized vaguely. The one he went into fits over whenever- But hold on, Sanji was, practically carrying him in the water as he made his way back to the ship.

"O-oi!" he said and coughed again, twisting to get free. He could swim on his own he wasn't-

"Just stay still, moron. You nearly drowned because you're too stupid not to open your mouth underwater so can't you relax for one goddamned second?!" Sanji's voice hit him like a whip. Fine. Fine whatever. There was pride and there was stupidity and he had too much of both, maybe.

The Merry was anchored further away than he realized and the choppy water kept splashing him in the face. It suddenly occurred to him that it would be a hell of a swim when his legs felt like lead. But Sanji was a tough bastard and it didn't seem to bother him. He only cursed once when a wave overtook them completely and Zoro felt Sanji's fingers clutch at his shirt. But even this water was enough to wear him out.

"I can handle it from here," Zoro said once they'd resurfaced, his voice sounding croakier than he'd like.

"No way, I'm not going to go under after you again. So just...just stay."

Zoro stayed.

By the time they reached the ship the worried faces of their nakama were peering overboard. Luffy looked like he wanted to jump right in with them and might have if Nami didn't have a tight grip on his vest.

"Dummy, who said you could go swimming," Luffy said with a fierce really worried captain frown. No one could frown and mean it like Luffy could.

"Sorry, Captain," Zoro said as Usopp unfurled the ladder.

"Me, too," Usopp said. "That super mega awesome fireball was way too powerful for one man to contain."

Zoro had nothing to say to that as he pulled himself on board and coughed a few times before accepting a towel from a worried Karoo and patting him on the head absently.

"Thanks," he said.

"I'm glad you're okay, Bushido-san. We were all worried."

"It will take more than being a living fire ball to daunt him," Nami said, shaking her head and coughing herself. Vivi frowned at her faintly, the little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

"That was pretty cool, though, you just went up all at once," Luffy said, relaxing now that the danger was over and perching himself on the railing. "You should do it again."

"Let's not," Nami said flatly.

"Honestly is there anything in your head but rubber," Usopp said, rubbing his forehead.

"Shishishi"

"Shishishishi is not an answer!" Usopp said.

"Can I get you anything, Bushido-san? Warm sake perhaps?" Vivi said smiling at him despite the worry line growing deeper. Considering this was the guy who was going to save her kingdom, he didn't blame her. He was about to tell her no when Sanji spoke up instead.

"You needn't worry yourself with that, Vivi-chwan. I'll fix this dumbass a drink even though I should kill him for making you worry."

"Ah, no thats okay, Sanji-san, it's really nothing."

"It's completely okay to be worried about them," Nami said, rapping Vivi lightly on the head with her knuckles as she passed. "Pretty soon you go past worried and straight into annoyed without looking back, so feel free to use them as you like."

"Oi, who asked you?" Zoro growled, though he was too drained to put much heat into it and she just stuck her tongue out at him like she'd been teasing -even if she normally didn't let on so quickly. Maybe something else was bugging her. Her eyes did seem a little glazed.

"Anyway," Nami said, turning away from him and heading toward her room. "Bring me something warm, too, Sanji-kun. I need to work on some charts."

"Right away, Nami-san!" Sanji said, spiraling away and sending droplets of water flying. Karoo gave an impatient kweh and shielded himself against it with a wing. Vivi smiled faintly then worried her lip between her teeth a moment before smiling again.

"I'm glad you're okay, Bushido-san," she said again, before following the path that Nami had taken. Zoro moved to sit beside his swords again, grunting as his skin pulled and he noticed how red it was. There was even a blister forming on the back of his hand. Damn.

Ah well it would heal up on its own. He closed his eyes, heard Usopp, Luffy and Karoo make their way closer, with the thump of boots, shuff of sandals and the scratching of claws respectively. Their shadows fell over him and he could feel them peering down at him.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I don't know, Zoro, you're pretty red," Usopp said. "And I'm low on burn cream. I could make more, of course, I'm a world famous medicine man!"

"Ehh? Really?" Luffy said, completely taken in yet again.

"Of course! I've been healing people in the East Blue since I was three. Of course I had to carry around my own little stool and—"

"Kweh!" Karoo said and there was the thwap of a wing hitting cloth.

"Oh right right. Anyway, Zoro, you should let us do something."

"It'll heal on its own," Zoro said, though he was sort of grateful for their cool shade.

"You should try some anyway. Burns really hurt."

There was something serious in Luffy's tone that made him open his eyes. The captain had a different frown now. Softer and worried like he was remembering something else. Zoro let out a grunt.

"All right. Give me what you have and I'll put it on."

"Yosh. I think I know where I left it." Usopp clattered away, Luffy close on his heels. Karoo heaved a ducky sigh and settled beside him, but not close enough to brush his skin which barely hurt. Zoro closed his eyes again and rested his head back against the railing. He'd only rest for a moment.

* * *

It was dark behind his eyes. A cool sweet breeze blew over his skin and tangled in the collar of his shirt. A hand was holding his wrist, narrow soft fingers pressed against his pulse and another hand touched something cool to his skin. Zoro let out a long relieved breath at the sensation. He slowly opened his eyes to night and stars and Sanji.

Zoro jolted back, gritting his teeth, neck twinging. Sanji glowered at him without even raising his head, red light glowing on the end of his cigarette and reflecting faintly in his eye.

"Not a word, shitty marimo. Someone has to do this so our idiot captain can stop asking about and I'm sure as hell not making the ladies tend to a big green baboon."

"I can do it myself," Zoro said, because Sanji's pale fingers, made even paler by the goop, gliding over his arm was weirdly pretty, but also pretty weird.

"About time, shithead," Sanji said, letting him go and sitting back. He didn't leave as Zoro had expected but remained sitting there, one foot flat on the deck so that his knee jutted up at a sharp angle. His head was bent, too. Everything was angled and he was glowering at nothing, fingers clenched around the cigarette as he smoked.

"It wasn't your fault," Zoro said, taking some of the goop onto his own fingers and rubbing it against his neck, closing his eyes at the sensation. Haa that felt good.

"Never said it was," Sanji said. "I saved your ass at least three times today."

"Then why are you acting so guilty?"

"The hell I am," Sanji said, kicking Zoro's shin with his free leg but it was half hearted kick at best. "I'm just tired of Vivi-chan fretting over your sorry ass." He tilted his head up to the sky and let out a stream of smoke. Zoro snorted but let it go. It wasn't important anyway. He rubbed the cream onto his arms and neck and paused when he glanced at Sanji and found the love cook watching him, resting his arm on his knee, thumb pressed against his temple as the cigarette sent smokey streams into the cool night air.

"What were you staring at anyway?"

Zoro finished the last of the goop, which ran out sooner than he would have liked and screwed the lid back on. There would be no damn good of telling Sanji the truth. It was a truth that didn't mean anything anyway.

"Nothing at all."

"Bullshit."

"A loud mouthed pain in the ass love cook, then."

"Yeah well this pain in the ass saved your dinner from bottomless pit captain," Sanji said, standing and nudging a tray of food closer with the toe of his shoe. "Enjoy it or not, shitty Marimo. I don't care." And he walked away, waving over his shoulder.

There was a chilled bottle of sake on the tray. And onigiri, still steaming hot. Had to save this from the captain his ass.

"Thanks, Dartboard-brow," he said, picking up the bottle of sake and drinking. The cold felt good.

"Anytime, Marimo-kun. You have to keep a lawn well watered, you know."

That didn't even make sense but he let it go because Sanji was smirking at him, bathed in the warm light of the galley, one hand resting on the railing. Zoro just closed his eyes and drank. It wasn't much but it was enough.

It was enough.


	22. Be-Spotted

**Be-Spotted**

* * *

A ZoSan fic with light bondage themes. Made for OP_300, but in this case, in it's original length before I had to cut some for word count. Though it only stands at 320 words. Also the theme was "Dots", though, I confess I don't think I used it well.

* * *

The blindfold is made of lurid orange spots, like an awful shirt he saw the love cook wear once. That much he knows. It doesn't really matter but he tries not to think of how it works. He grunts and strains against the cloth that binds his wrists. He can break it, he's strong, but the fact that it holds even under the faintest test of his not inconsiderable strength sends a stinging thrill through him. Sanji snickers, shifting his warm weight against Zoro's stomach. He is clothed while Zoro is not and it's unfair, but it's part of the game. Sanji damn well better start playing.

"You're like a shitty animal," Sanji says.

"Shut up," Zoro replies, trying not to shiver at the cool smooth fingertips over his nipple. He won't give in. He won't react. That is his game. To remain stoic throughout, testing his strength in all areas.

"So testy, Marimo," Sanji says. He tries to think of a comeback but the love cook is distracting him, soft touches everywhere. Like whispers over his skin. There but not enough. Not near enough. A feather-light kiss on his other nipple, and a brush of warm air, and then a sharp bite that makes him curse and jolt off the bed. Just a jerk. There's nothing wanting about it.

"Stop screwing around," he snaps, aware of the hoarseness in his voice. He wants to move. To touch. To feel teeth and hands and streaks of pain and simmering pleasure. _This_ is just annoying, and he refuses to believe his heart is hammering like a kettle drum. It picks up even more when Sanji laughs deeply.

"I'm not. This is just the entree." The bed shifts and he feels a light tickle against his ear as Sanji's voice pours like heated silk into it. "Please wait for the main course."

"Fuck," he mutters. And afterward says a lot more than that as his vision is filled with spots and stars.


	23. Falling Up

**Falling Up  
**

* * *

A Buggy reflections piece, taking place in the timeskip. Also slight Buggy/Galdino (Mr. 3) subtext.

* * *

Buggy woke in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling uncomprehending for a moment. His wrists were light, his clothes were clean, his hair, too. The ship rocked softly, buoyed by the gentle waves of deep water. He raised his hands to the dim light of the predawn, reminding himself that he was free of that place. Free enough. There weren't enough good long soaks in the world to rid himself of it completely. There wasn't enough treasure to keep the nightmares from fringing in on his memory. Of boiling water. Of ice baths so cold his snot froze to his face. Of lice. Of needles being driven under the beds of his nails. Just once. But enough to make him confess to committing every murder from here to the New World if that would make them happy.

Goddamn but he was a hell of a mess. He got up, poured himself some water from the basin to the bowl and splashed himself with it. It was old fashioned but he didn't like the guys seeing him without his face on. Especially now. Especially those guys. How had that even happened. The scum of Impel Down under him. Scum even scummier than he was used to. Scum that Roger could send scuttling under rocks like the roaches they were just by his very presence. And yet scum he had to rely on. And not make a single mistake.

At least becoming a shichibukai was one way to keep himself above board. He dried his face and his hands before sitting at his mirror with the big yellow lights around. It wasn't a vanity no matter what anyone said about the matter and he made sure no one had said it twice. Well except for those guys who had proclaimed how manly he must be to even use such a thing in full knowledge of anyone else. They were scum and they were stupid scum. He couldn't tell if torture had made them that way or not. He wasn't even sure which way he preferred.

Buggy brushed his hair until it was glossy, glad they had a ground-rule policy to take a shower at least once a week to promote health and longevity or whatever he'd said that they lapped up like greedy dogs. He pulled it back into a simple ponytail for now and rummaged around for some foundation which they could shut the hell up about because makeup didn't just stay on by its damn self when there was a knock on the door. He froze, the old terror going through him like mud over ice.

Was it Cabaji or Mohji? Or was it one of _them_ ready to slit his throat with a butter knife and start a mutiny that, by all rights, should happened a million times by now. Should he pretend to be sleeping? Would that make him more vulnerable or not? He could put his face on hurriedly and if they were going to kill him perhaps seeing him prepared would make them change their minds and send them into bubbles of joy of how he was always ready for anything, that Captain Buggy, or some shit like that. Or maybe he could say 'what the hell do you want?' in a gruff voice and achieve the same effect?

"Are you awake?"

Galdino.

Buggy let out a breath, cursing the man for scaring him like that. For some reason he trusted Galdino even more than he had Alvida. Then again, he supposed, you didn't share warmth with a man in a totally understandable circumstance in sub-zero temperatures which was nothing more than staying alive, and subsequently escaping prison, without trusting him a little. It didn't hurt that they were on the same ship literally and rhetorically and if Buggy went down, Galdino was going with him.

"Come in already," he grumbled, pulling on his gloves to cover the network of fine scars on his hands as the door opened and brush of cold air came in. They were entering a winter island. Maybe they could get some skiing done and Buggy could improve his skill without also busting his face. He saw in the well lit mirror that Galdino had bought a tray with him with two cups of tea on it, lightly steaming.

Well if it was room service he didn't mind if he did.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" he said as he sat at his small table, looking at the smudges under the man's eyes. Even his hair was droopy, the three listing to the side like a couple of low rounded hills.

"You think two years would have made a difference," Galdino said absently, stirring his tea before taking a sip.

"Two years is nothing. Ha. I could go another ten," Buggy said, but didn't put much effort into the old lie and Galdino at least had the grace to acknowledge it with a small grunt. Well who cared really. He sipped his tea and crossed one leg over the other, looking out into the sea.

"I flagged down a News Coo," Galdino said abruptly and Buggy looked at him, but the man was looking steadily away. Was it bad news? Just what he needed. He noticed the paper on the tray and the moment his eye fell on the damn page he saw something that made his lip curl with conflicting emotions. Straw Hats at Sabody. That kid at Sabody. Straw Hat Luffy. Rubber brat. Shank's protégée. What Buggy wouldn't have done once upon a time to snap him in half like the annoying ass rubber band that he was.

"He doesn't look a damn bit different," Buggy grumbled, flapping the paper with the back of his hand. "Look at that. I mean he's got to be, what? Twenty or something by now?" And didn't that make him feel old? "But he looks like he just turned fifteen. Age, damn you."

"I helped him," Galdino said absently. "I don't know why."

It was an old conversation that Buggy had thought they'd buried. But here it was again, and he couldn't help but parrot the reply, familiar on his tongue like meat chewed too long.

"I, for one, didn't mean to. Little bastard has got something going for him." A "D" probably, if you believed that nonsense. Which Buggy steadfastly didn't because he was going to change the world without an intial to his name and see how they liked that. Or...well if not change the world at least be disgustingly wealthy in one corner of it, even if it was a quieter life than he intended.

"I was actually concerned for him," Galdino said in a low voice. This was something new and Buggy felt a bolt of alarm at hearing it.

"That's a slippery slope, my friend," he said, jabbing a finger in the other man's direction. "We're not going to go down it. We were tricked into allying with him once, but he's still my enemy-and as long as we want-" to have the comparative protection of "to be shichibukai, he's going to be your enemy, too."

"I heard Bartholomew Kuma guarded their ship," Galdino said.

"I don't want to hear it," Buggy said, flicking the paper open and trying to bury himself in news other than that scrawny rubber kid. Horoscopes. That should be good.

"I heard from someone who heard from someone that Roronoa might be connected to Mihawk."

"People will say anything." Buggy flapped a hand and fixated on his sign. There it was.

_Long seeded plans will come to fruition. _

Yes!

_But beware the gathering storm. _

No…

A D brings the storm, hadn't he heard that? He closed the paper with a grunt and jabbed a finger into the tiny black and white picture of Luffy's- Straw Hat's face. He wouldn't help out again. He wouldn't let that brat interfere again. He'd helped him jump prison. He'd helped him with his brother. He'd even given him back his damn hat at great risk to himself- though that was mostly Shanks' fault, damn that red-hair to shitting pincushions in hell- but that was as far as he was going to get involved.

"I just...can't hate him anymore," Galdino said. Damning words, like the closing of a door.

"You have to try," Buggy said, clencing his free hand. "You can't let him get under your skin."

"It's too late," Galdino said softly, finally meeting Buggy's eyes, expression somber. The eyes of a man who has accepted defeat. "I want to see him succeed."

"Bah, you're just tired," Buggy said, flopping the paper back on the tray and attacking his tea with vigor. That was the problem. They were just tired. Both of them. Strange feelings were attributed to sudden change and the fact that they had about fifty happy murderous assholes tucked into the hold below their feet that they had go keep happy- since if you took away the happy part, only murderous would be left.

When he was done, he set the tea cup to the side and looked at Galdino's morose expression.

"Let's find some idiotic rookies to trash," Buggy said, feeling compelled to cheer the man up. "I'm sure you can beat some strategy into their thick heads before we get there."

"You think so?" Galdino said, brightening a bit. Now that was more like it.

"Sure. If-" _anyone can do it, you can_ was hovering on his lips. But that sounded like he was on the edge of the very broad line that they had drawn in the sand and painted red and planted signal flares around and he was not about to step over it. "-they give you any trouble, just tell them I'll mess them up."

Only please if he had any luck at all in this universe, let them not give him trouble. Or if they did, let Galdino have the common sense to not say that because Buggy wasn't sure how much of a messing up he could actually give them. Galdino gave him a slant eyed look.

"I'll be sure to do that," he said with the driest of sarcasm and Buggy wanted to kiss him on the mouth for understanding but that was relief talking and he was going to sit back at his mirror and put his face on. Foundation out, applying liberally. The bell clanged from the galley, signaling that breakfast would be soon and he started to hear the groaning and good-natured rabble rousing of the men as they went about getting up. Soon they would be rowdy and boisterous and all crammed into a galley a bit too small for them still, with Buggy at the head, Galdino at his right, and Cabaji and Mohji pressed shoulder to shoulder on his left, eating with false cheer and laughing like frightened pigeons. Two years hadn't been enough for them either. Even Richie seemed a little on edge.

"Let's just hope we keep falling up," Galdino murmured, as if to himself. And Buggy agreed with him. It was terrifying but somehow no matter how often the ground was wrenched away from him, he always somehow managed to find himself on his feet again...Which would be fine if not for the sensation that the straw hat, that damn bloody hat that had tortured him on three generations, was nearby, ready to change the world and him with it-whether he liked it or not.


End file.
